


...and then I feel you touch me

by MelanieQuinlan



Category: Pet Shop Boys
Genre: Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, M/M, Pop music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29820633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelanieQuinlan/pseuds/MelanieQuinlan
Summary: When Pete Gleadall mentions online dating in jest, both Neil and Chris feel curious enough to try it out. With unexpected consequences.
Relationships: Chris Lowe/Neil Tennant
Kudos: 9





	...and then I feel you touch me

"The night isn't getting any younger," Neil thought morosely, "just as we aren’t getting any younger, either."

Ever since Dainton’s death roughly four months ago Neil found it hard to deal with the small things of everyday life. Simple things, like hanging on to a conversation, remembering to call someone if he’d promised, not letting his fridge go empty safe for a box of milk and some still water for days.

He stared down into his customary glass of red wine which hadn't been touched since he got it from the bar about two hours ago. Somehow, he didn't feel like drinking, didn't feel like getting drunk or enjoying himself. 

If he were honest with himself, he didn't feel like doing much at all. He tried to shake himself out of this mood; he was getting on his own nerves. It wasn't like him to brood for that long. After all, wasn't he supposed to be the one who carried on as normal in the most grievous circumstances? 

He sighed softly; he really ought to get a grip. If nothing else, he owned it to Chris, his friend and partner for whom the whole mess was so much harder to bear. 

They hadn't really talked about it after Dainton's funeral, only about the charity concert in aid of their late assistances’ family they had agreed to headline. Neil knew that if he felt Dainton's loss keenly it must be living hell for his friend. But Chris didn't show how he felt; he acted as if nothing had happened. 

The only thing slightly out of the ordinary which nobody but Neil found alarming was the fact that Chris readily agreed to all projects and activities however loosely connected with the Pet Shop Boys and had even repeatedly asked for Neil to come back from Durham so that they could write songs in their London studio together.

Not that he minded; he liked working, writing songs and tossing around ideas for various projects at the same time but he knew that Chris was much lazier than him by nature so his friend’s new eagerness to keep busy worried him quite a bit. 

An elbow to his ribs brought Neil back to reality, the noisy club they were in and he found the faces of Chris and Pete Gleadal staring down at him. Chris was on the verge of sitting back down; he was carrying two pints of lager and sat them down on the table between Pete and himself. Pete was standing as well; he usually claimed that sitting on these bar stools made his legs go numb. For a strange moment Neil felt panicky but knowing that he was just being silly he shook himself and looked around at his friends and raised an eyebrow in question. 

“What were you saying?”

Both Chris and Pete laughed and when he’d sat back down, Chris spoke up: 

“We were just discussing that dating website Pete’s so keen on using. But he didn’t know if they got a gay section. Then we started on Gaydar and the like. And he asked if we’d ever do it.” He smirked and winked at Neil who stared back at him.

“What? Try to find dates online?” 

Pete grinned and nodded. “Yeah, you know, it’s not as sordid as it sounds. You just fill in a profile and you decide how much you wanna reveal about yourself. Like, if you want to post a picture or use a nickname, or whatever.”

Neil frowned and considered the idea for a moment. “No, I don’t think I’d ever do this,” he said. “First of all, I don’t like the idea of small ads in general and then I don’t really have the patience to fiddle around with the profile settings. I guess, I’d be bored with it before I even had everything filled in and would possibly never look at it again, so I’d never know if anyone did reply at all.”

Chris nearly spit out his mouthful of beer hearing Neil’s reasoning and Pete grinned widely as well.

“So, you’re saying what? Your lack of attention span’d stop you dating?” Chris teased. “Think about the hot guys offering themselves there. Wouldn’t they catch your attention?”

Pete was howling with laughter now and Neil couldn’t suppress a chuckle as well. 

“There are always hot guys around, no matter where we go, Chris,” Neil shot back at his friend. “Do you think I’d even notice?”

Chris was laughing heartily now as well, wiping at tears running down his cheeks. Neil felt his tentative smile spreading; it was good to see Chris having so much fun. How he missed that, just being able to laugh without worrying or regretting how much they both had lost. 

When his near-hysterical giggles had subsided, Chris asked: “So you wouldn’t do it?

Neil shook his head. “No, I think I’d find it hard to believe that what somebody in the guise of some silly nickname wrote to me was real.”

“I wouldn’t either,” Chris said. “Simply because you can’t snog the guy right away.”

This time Neil had to laugh, and he shook his head in mock disapproval. 

“You don’t honestly mean to tell us that you select your lovers by how good kissers they are? Really, you’re so shallow!”

“Well, at least I don’t have to worry about passing time with them if they can kiss. It’s not me giving lectures about Russian history!”

Neil tried to look sternly at his friend, hoping to achieve his best Headmaster Tennant impression but failed quite miserably and found instead shared the laugh with his companions. 

They talked for a while longer and when Neil finally found himself on the backseat of a black cab going home, he had to admit that he really had an enjoyable time in the end. 

◊◊◊◊

Neil’s good mood diminished somewhat when he entered his flat and realized that he had it back to himself again.

Chris had stayed with him the past fortnight because he still hadn't got around getting a new flat in London. He had decided that he had accepted Neil’s hospitality for long enough and had moved to a hotel the previous morning. 

Neil had assumed he’d be glad to have his privacy back but now he realized that he had become quite attached to having company. Why did he always feel so lonely whenever Chris had left again? Why did the flat seem too quiet, too big, too oppressing? 

He stifled a sigh and without bothering to switch on the lights, hung his coat and kicked off his shoes. Walking down the corridor and up the stairs still in his socks he loosened his tie and headed for the sitting room. 

He stood at the door for a moment, taking in the grey shadows and pale moonlight that blurred the outlines of the furniture and swallowed most of the colours. He didn’t really know why he felt so odd, almost out of place in his own home. It wasn’t quite loneliness, it wasn’t sadness either, but he certainly wasn’t at ease. 

He hated it when something like this happened: if he couldn’t put a finger on what was bothering him. Like that it kept nagging at him from the back of his mind and wouldn’t go away until he’d managed to figure it out. He hated that he couldn’t really do anything about it if he didn’t know what upset him; that he couldn’t control the way he was feeling.

Even though he had been tiered back in the club and had declined the invitation to join Chris and Pete for some late-night clubbing at the Shadow Lounge, Neil now felt wide awake and restless. 

He crossed the room and pulled down the blinds, then sat down at the desk and switched on the desk light. A soft golden simmer spread out and lit up the small space of the desk and dispelled the gloom somewhat. Neil berated himself mentally for thinking such things. Dispelling the gloom, honestly!

Out of habit he switched on his Mac book and while he waited for it to boot up, he briefly contemplated to continue work on some of the lyrics he had begun and meant for the new songs he was currently writing with Chris. 

Chris. 

His thoughts drifted back to the moment in the club where they had teased each other, and he’d managed to make his friend laugh so hard he was crying. He smiled as he pictured Chris wiping the tears from the corner of his eyes. Chris looked so much younger than he smiled and when he laughed like that, all carefree and relaxed he behaved almost like a kid. After all the strain Chris had been through Neil couldn’t help but wish more such blithe moments for his friend. 

He shook his head slightly, bemused at where his thoughts had taken him and decided that trying to re-write his lyrics wasn’t such a clever idea after all. Somehow, he feared that everything he wrote that night would just sound over-dramatic. 

He went online instead and checked his emails. Nothing of interest. Pete’s voice came back to him, taking enthusiastically about that online dating site. On a whim Neil found himself typing the name in the browser window and seconds later a subtle looking welcome page greeted him. At least no pictures of half-naked people were popping up… 

He clicked the enter button and was redirected to the registration page. He cast a quick glance over all the fields he was asked to fill in and yes, it seemed this site also offered a service for same-sex relations even though it seemed to cater mostly for a heterosexual clientele. 

He found himself reading the terms and conditions without being aware of having made the conscious decision to really use this site. He filled in his personal details truthfully because he had never understood what people could possibly gain by creating online personas to which they could not live up to in real life. 

He paused, wondering what on earth he was to use as a pseudonym, for putting his real name there was out of the question for obvious reasons. Although nobody would possibly believe that the real Neil Tennant had indeed registered at an online dating site. 

But why should he risk getting rude emails for supposedly taking on somebody else’s identity? The thought made him smile. Yes, people would definitively think of him as an imposer. How twisted life could be!

Neil leaned back in his chair and stared at the screen, wracking his brain for some sort of nickname. It certainly should not be too revealing in case any of his friends used this site by chance, so his real-life nicknames were out of the question. Well, but Nebbo or Tigger-Tennant weren’t likely to attract the desired attention, were they? 

Clues alluding to the Pet Shop Boys were also out of the question and yet it shouldn’t be something completely out of the blue. After a while he warily settled on bibliophile54. 

He sighed. It really wasn’t much of an eye-catcher, but he also felt that he wasn’t likely to come up with a better one any time soon. He’d given his age so revealing what people would figure out to be his birth year wasn’t a big deal and as for the rest… What he’d told Pete and Chris was true indeed; he did not have the patience for something like this. 

He chose not to upload a picture and not to reveal his email address, ticked the box that stated that he wanted to receive updates regarding received messages daily and then paused again. The next fields were trickier to fill in. He was asked to describe himself, state what he was looking for in others and which physical criteria his wanna-be partner should meet. 

“Describe yourself!” Neil grumbled, slightly exasperated as if this was the most outrageous thing to ask for. It took him almost 20 minutes to come up with a description he felt half-way comfortable with. After all it shouldn’t expose him too much without sounding boring or far-fetched while hopefully still provoking some guys into replying to him. 

Wait a minute, had he really hoped that somebody would reply? It really was getting late; this was meant as nothing but a joke to pass the time. 

He considered the following options. Whom did he want to meet? That was easy. He ticked single gay male and then nearly blushed as he read the next selection. What did he want to meet a single gay male for? He could choose from relationship, friendship, email or chat, one-on-one sex, group sex and the vague other activities. He thought he didn’t really want to know what was filed under other activities. He opted for relationship. He had enough friends, and the rest was just too unthinkable. Apart from the chat thing but he considered this to be a waste of time. 

Then onto the dreaded What-are-you-looking-for-in-others? bit. Neil frowned. What was he looking for? Did he even know? He thought he knew quite well what he didn’t want, so he decided it was possible best to take it from there. 

The physical description was much easier again. All he had to do was tick boxes so that the desired attributes were included in his wanted ad. He kept it down to a minimum. He really wasn’t that drawn to a specific look. It had more to do with the expression in the other person’s eyes, the kind of smile they smiled and the general impression he got from them. 

Okay, good looks never hurt and if he just felt like messing around and spending a hot night or something like this it was the only think he ever went for. Only he wasn’t in the mood for messing around lately.   
If Dainton’s death had been good for anything, it was to remind him that life was too sort to waste time on things your heart wasn’t in. Well, it hadn’t only reminded him, it had brought it back to his attention with the force of a precise punch to the gut. 

He pressed the submit button with a small sigh of relief. He was finally done! Strangely enough he felt embarrassed by what he had done, almost guilty. Staring at his newly created profile he wondered if anybody would ever write to him. And if, would it be somebody who was both sensible and serious? 

Neil yawned, suddenly feeling very tired and mildly frustrated as well and decided to go to bed. He left the dating portal and shut down his Mac book with the firm intention to never look at his profile again. 

◊◊◊◊

When Chris finally made it back to the hotel, it was almost morning. Pete and him had run into some other mutual friends at the Shadow Lounge and had spent quite some time with them chatting and dancing. Still, he had almost regretted that Neil hadn’t joint them. He’d really been back to form, Neil. 

That guy could use his sharp tongue to tease so mercilessly. Not that he was cruel. Not to him, anyway. Chris paused, caught in mid-thought. No, Neil never said things designed to truly hurt him. Even when Chris had pushed his partners patience to the limits by not turning up for interviews or running off stage in the old days and Neil had flown off the handle because of it backstage, Neil had maybe screamed at him, had even slapped him a handful of times but had never said anything that could’ve been considered the verbal equivalent of a knock-out punch. 

Chris knew that Neil was well capable of delivering such verbal punches. He’d seen more than one young man, them being lovers, affairs, or ex-boyfriends – totally distraught after Neil’d been through with them, having torn them to shreds verbally.

Chris sat down on the big bed heavily. Somehow the realization that Neil had spared him this side of his personality made him feel… Well, weird and a tad uncomfortable as well. 

He got up form the bed once more, fetched a can of lager from the mini bar and then unpacked his notebook. He set it down on the covers and switched it on. He grinned wickedly to himself; it didn’t do to think too much about Neil and he’d something more fun on his mind anyway.

Ever since Pete had started on this online dating business, Chris fingers had inched to log onto this site and spy a bit on his mate.

He found it without problem and grumbled to himself when he realized that he had to get registered to be able to view the member’s profiles. He went through with it, now silently agreeing with Neil that creating his own profile was indeed a task testing his patience. He rushed through the questions, not taking great care with what he wrote. He had no intentions of actually dating; he was just curious to see what their sound-engineer was up to online.

When he’d finally hit the submit button, he waited a few short moments until he received an affirmation that he was now a official member and welcome to use all services on offer. He took a sip from his beer and made himself more comfortable before he set out to find Pete’s profile.

After a frustrating 45 minutes, Chris felt like tossing the innocent notebook into the nearest bin. He’d tried every possibly he could think of, he’d even looked into the heterosexual one-on-one and group sex sections and felt like he now knew far more about straight kinks and fetishes than he’d ever wanted.

Not that he was prudish, far from it but some of the things he’d seen described there were so not his cup of tea that he’d felt faintly sick.

Either Pete hadn’t uploaded a picture, and with a nickname unknown to Chris was virtually invisible to him online, or else had such bizarre ideas of having fun that Chris no longer wanted to know.

He kicked at the crumbled-up blanket at his feet in frustration. So, he’d signed up for nothing? Well, maybe he could have a bit of fun before he turned in.

He briefly contemplated using the chat room but somehow, he wasn’t in the mood for talking dirty. He went back to the main page instead and checked the boxes that he was looking for a single gay man for a relation or one-on-one sex. He thought for a moment; maybe he should just aim for a laugh.

So instead off opting for his usual choices – guys between 25 and 35 with a defined body, preferably toned skin or dark complexion and a lot of body hair – he ticked the boxes for 35-55 and left the other options open. He received an impressive list of results which didn’t really surprise him. After all a lot of older gays found the scene of young and hip clubs and bars too competitive and preferred the alleged safety of the world-wide-web.

“23 pages of results?” Chris muttered in shocked disbelieve. To sort through all of this would take forever!

He then realized that he hadn’t narrowed down the search option as far as the area he was searching was concerned. As he was being lazy, he decided he was looking at guys from London only, not even the outskirts included.

Now that did the trick, the 23 paged of hits dwindled down to a more manageable 3. Chris scrolled down the first page, only roughly skipping over the nicknames. He could uncheck results he was no longer interested in and even at his second glance realized that he would make much use of it.

Nicknames like bigdaddy69, senior-master or devoted-slave didn’t really inspire the urge in him to check out their profiles, so he was down to one page and two extra hits after he had unchecked all the nicknames which sort of made his skin crawl. In an uncomfortable sort of way.

Then he did some serious reading. With some profiles he only got as far as two sentences into their self-description or not even beyond clicking of their photographs. 

“.. if you’re keen about spanking and are looking for a stern master…”  
“…retired butcher likes to be handled like a juicy piece of meat….”

Yeek! Chris had thought nothing short of child-abuse, rape and bestially could actually put him off when it came to sexual preferences but apparently, he’s been wrong about this. Very wrong.

He took another deep sip form his lager. God, there really were some crazy mother-fuckers out there!

All the guys who were obviously into some sort of s/m went straight off Chris’ list as well as those guys who had only uploaded a blurred picture of their dicks, testicles or buttocks and the only information they had supplied about them was that they liked to fuck. Such unimaginative dunderheads!

In the end Chris was left with three remaining results. All of them hadn’t uploaded pictures and their self-description hadn’t started with explicitly sexual content.

The first one he chose simply called himself new_cross_mike and sounded half-way interesting until Chris found out in the last sentence of this profile that dear Mike had been married for almost 30 years and had no intention of changing that fact. Why he stated that he was looking for a steady relation with a guy no older than 45 was quite beyond Chris, who’d always thought that no matter how you ticked you shouldn’t live a lie. It was cruel for all parties involved and also it was a cowardly thing to do.

Two left. Chris sighed. This was really getting ridiculous! The next one used the not very original nickname bibliophile54.

“God, not a teacher or some don,” Chris found himself wishing silently. Chris didn’t know why, but teachers and the like usually got on his nerves.

He clicked on the bibliophile’s profile and read that he was 5’11”, slim, white, had blue eyes, brown hair, usually wore formal clothes and was out. Apparently, he wasn’t a teacher but used to be an editor and now worked in the music industry. Chris groaned. Surely that meant that the guy was either was an A&R person or somebody’s manager. He’d been born in June but had not given his exact birthday, just like he’d only written that he lived in southwest London but had not revealed the Borough.

Chris smiled a small smile. Either that guy liked to keep people guessing or he was extremely private.

Chris also learned that bibliophile54 didn’t have much body hair, didn’t smoke or did drugs but enjoyed a drink. The former editor described himself as being versatile in bed, considered safe sex a matter that needed to be discussed and himself gay and not bisexual. He was looking for men between 30 and 50.

So far, so good, Chris thought. This could apply to almost any gay guy in his 50s. Bibliophile54? That made him 53, as old as Neil. Chris wondered if he regarded 53 as old. And yes, on paper, it did sound old to him, but then again, he didn’t think of his friend as an old man. Old man, oh good Heavens! If he thought of an old gay man, he had a picture of Quentin Crisp in his head.

No that wasn’t an image he wanted to take to bed, so he continued to read what bibliophile54 had to say about him. His self-description was short and somewhat vague but Chris was chuckling while he read.

“If you saw me on the street, you possible wouldn’t look twice. But that’d be a mistake because you’d miss out on a lot of things,” bibliophile54 had written. “On witty conversations for example or someone who’s interested in the here and now as well in what has been. You’d miss a good friend, an eager listener and an (sometimes brutally) honest adviser. I’m very much my own person, independent both socially and financially and I’d prefer if you stood on your own two feet as well. I’m passionate about music (both classical and modern), books and art and try to keep an open mind while still having an option. I love living in the city and wouldn’t want to move away but do love the countryside as well. Five words to best describe me: Strong-willed, loyal, enthusiastic, realistic and a bit obsessive.”

“So, you’re hard-headed, arrogant and/or bossy with issues,” Chris mumbled. He found himself grinning. Well, at least that guy came clear about this from the start and didn’t sweet-talk. He didn’t know why but he found that somehow refreshing and read on.  
Next came the part where the guy revealed what characteristics he was looking for in his dates. 

“Looks can be deceiving and as the saying goes: don’t judge a book by the cover. If you’re not afraid to speak your mind, show me your gentle side and maybe look at me with eyes that can melt my defences, you’re welcome to drop me a line.”

“Wow, that was short,” Chris commented under his breath as he glanced at what boxes   
bibliophile54 had ticked to describe his physical preferences. Again, the details were meagre. The man had not specified much, only that the guy he was looking for should be gay and versatile, shouldn’t smoke and do drugs as well and should want to discuss the need for safe sex.

Chris sighed. It was so typical of gay men of his generation and older. The shadow of HIV and AIDS still loomed large, regardless of how many tests had turned out negative. There was always a friend or lover in their past who had died before combination therapy had become available and had made the disease more manageable.

Not that he blamed the bibliophile for making it an issue, he wasn’t any different and had annoyed many of his casual acquaintances (fuck buddies, if you wanted to use drastic terms) with questions about their health status or his insistence on always using condoms.

Chris stared at the screen for a while, lost in thought. Then he blinked and the terms eager listener, good friend and gentle side seemed to jump out at him. His fingers moved over the keyboard seemingly on their own accord, but he didn’t stop typing when he realized what he was doing.

He couldn’t even say what exactly had made him answer bibliophile54. He really had no clue; he thought it was the bluntness of the ex-editor that had caught his interested. There was so much pretence in the world he lived in; it was always a blessing to met people who were for real.

He kept his reply short to match the vagueness of his unknown would-be-date and didn’t bother to re-read what he’d written before he sent the message. He feared he’d get cold feet about all of this and not sent it at all if he thought about this too much. Hell, he hadn’t wanted to date! Not now, maybe not ever again. It was too much of a bother. You only got hurt in the end and Chris thought he’d been hurt enough in his time.

After he’d sent his message to bibliophile54 he disconnected as fast as he could and slammed his notebook shut with more force than was strictly necessary. He didn’t know why, but he felt agitated and much too lonely for his own liking.

When he had taken a shower and was finally lying in bed, Chris found himself wondering about bibliophile54. What did the man look like? Was he handsome? A good lover? Fun to be around? Was he just educated or one of those annoying know-it-alls? Would he find that guy attractive? Would he want to meet him? To kiss him? To…?

Chris turned around, annoyed with himself. He put the pillow over his head as if blocking out the surroundings would also serve to block out his confused thoughts. Bibliophile54… To hell with that guy! He didn’t even know that man’s real name!

◊◊◊◊

It was three days later that Neil finally broke his resolve not to look at his profile again. He was sitting in the main room of their London studio, passing the time until Chris was due to arrive with reading some magazines and drinking tea.

His thoughts had gone back to this dating site ever since he’d shut down his Mac book that night he’d completed his profile. And true to the proverb, curiosity killed the cat and Neil had found that he could no longer stand the nagging feeling that he might be missing something if he didn’t check back.

He looked at his watch; Chris wouldn’t be in for another 10 minutes at least if the traffic updates on the radio were any indication at all. So, he put down his mug and logged into that dating portal again. He went straight to his private inbox and to his surprise a little blinking icon indicated that he had received three private messages.

Feeling his face go hot, he hesitated for a moment and then swallowed down his nervousness with another sip of tea. Hell, he acted as if he were a naughty schoolboy! He read the first message and it made him blush much more fiercely this time. God, why did everybody think they had to be so vulgar all the time?

Neil didn’t mind if people spoke their mind about sexual issues, but he found it distasteful if they felt the need to discuss the size of their dicks before you even knew their first names. He shook his head and without second thought deleted impressiveMartin’s message. If he wanted to see a dick in more detail than necessary, he’d watch some porn, thank you very much!

The next message wasn’t much better. It simply said: “Wanna meet for a nice fuck? Send a reply and I’ll sent you my mobile number.”

Neil deleted that one as well. God, why had he bothered to set his settings to that he was looking for a relation if those people didn’t give a damn about that anyway?

Feeling wary he clicked on the last message. He noted that it had been sent only hours after he’d completed his profile. Somewhat relieved he realized that this guy hadn’t put any sexual hints in his short message. Feeling considerably calmer because of that, he re-read it with more interest.

“Saw your message and thought that you either liked the idea of people guessing about you or were just a bit shy. Defences, eh? What are you, a cancer? I quite like a decent conversation and I’m obsessed with music, but the classical stuff doesn’t do it for me. Don’t know about my gentle side but I have brown eyes and some people think that’s nice. Oh, and I have quite an attitude.”

A winking smiley had been put at the end of the note, no greeting, no suggestion that he should write back. Neil stared at the message, feeling strange. He couldn’t even have said if he was pleased by it or not. Still, he felt he urge to reply.

Just when he was about to press the reply button, he heard the door swing open and the unmistakable sound of trainers walking across a wooden floor towards him. Chris had arrived! Bloody hell, there was no way that he would let Chris see which website he’d been viewing. After his little speech about small ads and the evil of internet dating, he would never be able to live it down if Chris caught him out on viewing private messages on a dating site! He didn’t bother to log himself out; he just randomly hit a link in his favourites list.

“What are you looking at the weather forecast for Florida for?” Chris inquired as a substitute greeting and flopped down on the chair opposite to Neil.

“Just clicked on the wrong button,” Neil mumbled and then closed everything down.

“Would you like some tea?”

◊◊◊◊

Later that day Neil was once again sitting at his desk in the sitting room, his Mac book ready and that damned dating website filling the screen. Evening had fallen early, for the day had been overcast and now dark rain clouds gathered overhead and promised some torrential rain later. Everything was brilliantly lit this time, however.

The brightness seemed to help ease the nervousness Neil was feeling. It was quite beyond him why he should feel this way at all, after all he wasn’t about to do anything terribly adventurous. All he wanted to do was read that message again and sent a reply, so why on earth did he feel like a knot had been tied in his stomach? He drummed his fingers on the wooden top of the desk and then, with a soft sigh, forced himself into action.

He didn’t even have to log in this time as he had left that portal in such a hurry earlier. He could still see the way Chris had shot an amused glance at him, but thankfully his friend had not pursued the matter.

Neil read the message again and this time noted with some satisfaction that he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t very imaginative with his nickname. That guy who’d responded called himself northernlad. Neil thought that was pretty generic, but who was he to judge?

He was quite curious as to what the lad’s profile might reveal and was almost disappointed when he found that the guy hadn’t uploaded a photograph either. He then scanned the personal details. It seemed the guy was just a tad shorter than he was; northernlad had given his height as 5’9”, he said he was white, skinny and gay, had brown hair and brown eyes, quite a bit of body hair, didn’t smoke or did drugs.

Somehow it amused Neil to read that the unknown guy had described himself as active but versatile. It was such a cliché, wasn’t it? Everybody always said they were the tops. You’d come to think there really were no bottoms, if you believed them! So, you could be queer as hell and as much of a clone as you wanted but at the same time nobody should think that you were on the receiving end of gay love-making!

Neil took a deep breath and then finally prepared to answer that stupid message. He re-read it one last time and then began typing, carefully searching for the right words, the right phrasing. He didn’t want to sound over-eager or desperate.

It seemed to take him ages to complete his reply but when he was finally done he hesitantly revised it carefully.

“Thanks for writing,” he had begun. “I didn’t expect anyone to answer, at least not that soon. Shy? Me? Well, I don’t really think so but though it must sound terribly corny, I’ve got to tell you that this is the first time I ever did something like this. Online dating, I mean. But you’re right, I’m a cancer. I don’t really believe in it, though: horoscopes and fortune-telling and the rest of it. To me it’s all just some kind of hocus-pocus. No offence meant if you’re a believer! Brown eyes you said? Hmm, sounds nice indeed. Which shade? Hazelnut or something lighter? Attitude is okay as long as you’re not too much of a drama-queen. Or a size-queen, for that matter. If you’d a like a decent conversation, as you’ve put it, just pick a subject and tell me your thoughts. I’ll give you mine in return. Have a nice evening!”

He hadn’t put any smileys in the short text and now he just hoped that the humour would come across without them. But he hated those stupid yellow dots, so he wasn’t going to use them. He sent the message without changing anything and kept on telling himself off silently for having indulged in such a mindless activity until the doorbell rang and his Chinese takeaway food was delivered. 

◊◊◊◊

Chris had checked back on his private message box on that dating site twice a day ever since he had first replied to the bibliophile. As the days had passed, he got more and more convinced that it all had been a totally idiotic idea and that he wasn’t likely to receive any answer at all. Well, he had received messages, quite a few of them, actually, but most of them had been simple offers for sex or else the guys had said something that had put him off replying.

Why he was still checking back on the evening of the third day after Pete had mentioned this site, Chris didn’t really know. Maybe something in his subconscious was urging him to, who knew?

He was thrilled to find that the ex-editor had finally replied. He clicked on the message header so that he was able to read it with almost sickening eagerness and when he was finished reading, he wore a wide grin. That guy had left all the next steps up to him, not that Chris had any idea what the next steps were supposed to be or how fast he was expected to move. Should he suggest a meeting? No, possibly not yet. Maybe it was for the best if they exchanged a few more messages before that, got to know each other a bit better, maybe.

Chris smiled to himself. When had he ever bothered to get to know somebody well before he threw himself head over heels into a relation? But who said that he and the bibliophile were going to have a relation in the first place?

◊◊◊◊

A small window had popped up and was blinking insistently when Neil entered the sitting room some minutes later, a plastic bag with his Chinese meal in hand. Actually, he’d just wanted to switch off his notebook, having planned to watch the late-night news as he ate but then his curiosity got the better of him and he unpacked his chicken chop-suey before he sat back down in his chair and started to read.

Somehow, he felt a bit ridiculous for actually considering joining this one-on-one chat. He’s always thought he’d never to this kind of thing, at least not with a stranger on some dating site. But then again, hadn’t he, with the Pet Shop Boys, done almost all of those things they had prophesied they wouldn’t do at the beginning of their career? Well, time made you wiser, or more willing to compromise or maybe even a bit desperate in some cases so why should he be any different in his private life and stick to self-set rules that might not apply to him any longer?

The message he’d received was once again from northernlad. Neil couldn’t have said why exactly but that fact made him smile. There was a strange satisfaction in finding that this person was obviously interested in him on some level.

“Hi bibliophile,” he read. “Got your last message. Thought it might be fun to chat to you. Y’know, instead of exchanging emails.”

Five minutes had passed then northernlad had written again.

“Hello? You there?”

Neil took a few forkfuls and, chewing slowly started typing:

“Yes, I’m here. Sorry for the delay, my dinner just got delivered.”

He stared at the screen for a moment, fingertips hovering uncertainly over the keys. What was he supposed to write? God, he hated that pointless small talk!

“How are you doing?” he continued, admittedly not very imaginatively but what did it matter? 

The answer came back almost immediately.

“Right, tug in, then! Isn’t it a bit late for dinner? What are you having?”

Neil glanced at his watch almost automatically. It was 15 minutes past 10 p.m. and maybe it was bit late for such a big meal, but he’d only had a bunch of sandwiches while he’s been at the studio with Chris and when he’d come home the phone hadn’t stopped ringing. He’d been speaking almost non-stop to various people including his mother for the best part of two hours and after that had decided that the lone yoghurt in his fridge wouldn’t do.

“Chinese take away,” he replied. “Chicken chop-suey, if you wanna know. I’m not planning on having supper, so I think it’s okay when I eat now.”

“Hey, take it easy, no offence meant! I get up dead late and stay up all night if I can so I eat at pretty strange times. Chinese stuff is great, but I can do without the veggies in your chop-suey.”

The comment made Neil chuckle between bites.

“No worries, no offence taken,” he answered.

Their conversation went on for half an hour, covering their favourite foods and restaurant recommendations. Neil had finished his meal in the meantime and had settled back comfortably in his chair. Part of him couldn’t quite believe that he was actually enjoying himself, but he found that this northern lad was quite a funny conversational partner. 

“So, why did you put up a profile here?” northernlad’s next question popped up on his screen.

Neil frowned slightly. Now that was a good question!

“Give me a short break. Just want to clean up the leftovers and get a cup of tea. I’ll be back in a minute,” he told the lad and got up.

A smiley came back along with the words: “Don’t be too long.”

Neil smiled to himself as he gathered up the empty food containers and went to the kitchen and disposed of the waste. He put the kettle on and while he waited for the water to boil, went to the toilet. When he was done, he took out his favourite mug from the shelf and put a bag of simple Darjeeling into it. He was out of lemons, so he poured a tiny sip of milk into the mug instead and then carried it over to the sitting room. 

No further message had arrived, and he found himself forced to answer the last question.

“Got my tea now. Hope, you’ve not fallen asleep in the meantime,” he teased. “Don’t know really, why I put up a profile. Guess I told you already that this is the first time I ever did something like this, so… Maybe it was folly. A friend told me about it and that made me curious. I wasn’t really searching for a boyfriend,” Neil answered truthfully.

“But now you are?”

That simple question made Neil pause. All of the sudden, he felt strangely unsettled. After all, this was the one question it all came down to. Was he really looking for a new boyfriend? Was he prepared to take this seriously or was he just playing?  
He inhaled sharply and rubbed the bridge of his nose in concentration. He was getting a bit of a headache and his contact lenses were making his eyes feel itchy. He should get a bit of sleep.

Yet Neil felt that he wouldn’t be able to get to sleep before he had made up his mind about this. He sipped his tea, thinking hard. Did he want a relation? A serious commitment, not just some passing fling without any stings attached? Did he want somebody to be that close?

He swallowed hard, sitting up straight as the realization him.

He had missed three Hello?’s and a confused looking smiley.

His eyebrow arched upwards as he realized that his hands were trembling slightly as he continued typing.

“Yes, now I am.”

◊◊◊◊

Chris didn’t quite understand why this admission had left him speechless. He started at the display of his notebook and shifted positions. He had lain on his belly but now he sat back up and leant against the headboard behind him.

He waited for the bibliophile to add anything, maybe to even ask him if he was serious as well. On the one hand he was glad that the question didn’t come, on the other it irritated the hell out of him. It felt as if he’d been left hanging.

Was that the bibliophile’s way of hinting at that he was looking for a boyfriend but did not consider him?

“Oh, for God’s shake, don’t be stupid,” Chris mumbled under his breath, annoyed with himself.

“Took you some thinking to come up with an answer,” Chris found himself typing. “Not an easy decision?”

This time the reply was almost instant.

“No, it was definitely a tough one to make. My last relation was a plain disaster, and I wasn’t sure if I’m ready for something new again. But then again, maybe I will never be. Just one way to find out, I guess.”

Chris was taking an imaginary hat off to the bibliophile for being that honest. He might not be good with words and comforting and stuff like that, but he wasn’t stupid. It was easy to read between the bibliophile’s lines and he could only too readily guess how his mysterious new friend felt. He knew the hurt, the bitterness and the insecurities. The guilt. 

“Yeah, same here,” he admitted. “Can’t really say if I wanna start a new relation. But I’m not in this for a laugh. Thought I was but it’s not a nice thing to do, is it? Messing with people’s hope? Listen, I don’t know you, but I liked the chat. Got no idea what will come out of this. Won’t mess with you, though. Okay?”

“Mess with me?” the reply popped up after a few moments. “I could make all sorts of puns on your choice of words, but I don’t think it was meant to be funny. Okay. No messing. Just tell me if you’re losing interest.”

The grin faded from Chris’ face as he finished reading. Somehow that last sentence left him feeling hallow. It was so easy to convince yourself that there’d never be a man out there who could possibly be interested in you again.

“Hmm, how about a meeting then?” Chris suggested. “To see if we get on in real life?”

“And to see if we click, physically and in whatever other way you need to wanna start a relation with someone,” Chris thought wryly.

The minutes seemed to crawl by almost painfully slowly. Chris kept staring at the screen, waiting for the window to pop up again but for a long moment nothing happened. He started to worry that the bibliophile was not going to reply at all, that somehow, he had managed to scare the guy off.

Chris chose not to think about why that possibility bothered him so much. He knew nothing about this guy on the other end of the line. Not his name, his face or his voice. Nothing to get attached to. Nothing to fancy. Nothing to fall in love with. So why did he feel he was going to be upset should he not hear from the ex-editor again?

His musings were cut sort when the next message finally popped up. Chris hurried to read it and was both pleased and slightly amused when he’d finished.

“Is it common practise to suggest a meeting after not even a handful of messages were exchanged?” The bibliophile questioned him. “I must admit I’m getting rather curious myself, but I’d still prefer it if we took a bit of time before we meet. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nothing to do with you. It’s just that I have to get used to the idea. You see, I hadn’t considered dating before this and it feels somewhat strange to suddenly… discuss the possibility of a relation with someone I know absolutely nothing about. I find that a bit scary. How about meeting in a month? Or if that’s too long for you, in a fortnight? I’d like it if we could ‘talk’ more before that.”

“…the possibility of a relation,” Chris quoted under his breath as he began to type. “Have to remember that one, sounds almost like one of Neil’s song titles.”

“Don’t know about common practise. Not a patient person, me. I can understand your objections, though. Don’t mind the talking bit. But be warned: I’ll grill you on all sorts of matters. Always liked to play truth-or-dare… Hmm, I’m a Libra and supposed to be diplomatic and other such bollocks, so I’ll pick the middle option and suggest a meeting in three weeks time. How about that?”

This time Chris only had to wait only for about half a minute before he received a reply.

“That sounds good,” he read. “In three weeks, time, then. That’ll make the 28th. Or shall we take the 29th as that would be a Friday?”

“Friday’s fine with me,” Chris answered. “What better way to start a weekend than having a hot date?”

“If I accept the statement, it’ll make me seem vain and if I don’t, you’ll think I’m shy so I say nothing and let you judge for yourself in three weeks.”

Chris laughed at the bibliophile’s reply. That guy certainly had a way with words. It would be fun to find out if his actions were going to be as good as those.

“Shall we add web-cams for a video chat? Or do VOI call and really talk until then?” Chris suggested.

“Oh no, thanks. I’m working with enough technology as it is, I don’t want to add more at home. Would you mind if we kept it old-fashioned and just went for a true blind date?”

Chris smiled to himself as he replied. Sharp-tongued and yet a bit coy, that guy was an interesting mixture.

“No, that’s fine with me. Keeps the suspense alive!”

“Great, it’s a deal then. You still didn’t answer my question, though,” he ex-editor went on. “About the colour of your eyes. Hazelnut or not?”

Still laughing, Chris wrote back: “Dunno really. Nobody ever asked me this before. It’s not dark-brown so I don’t think they’re hazel. Don’t ask for the correct shade, I’ve no idea! Why do you wanna know?”

“Plain curiosity,” came the answer. “I’ve got a thing with eyes. So maybe I’m just trying to picture that bit of you. Lighter than hazelnut? That’ll be tawny or maroon or something like that. Nice, I guess.”

That hesitant compliment made Chris chuckle as well as frown at the choice of words once more.

“Where the hell do you get your words from?”

“I read,” the bibliophile shot back at him and Chris grinned more widely, thinking that whatever came out of the final meeting, he would have at least enjoyed himself during their chats.

◊◊◊◊

They ended up chatting almost every evening after that first time and Neil often found an additional email in his inbox when he logged onto the dating site during the day to check back on their conversations. When he thought about it, it still amazed him how quickly he had got used to speaking to that stranger every evening and how much he was looking forward to their little discussions.

Ten days had passed since that first chat and they had covered a wide range of topics. From cinema and fashion to their best and worst holiday experiences, their views on politics, religion, and general gossip to more personal stuff like experiences with past boyfriends or the reaction of other people to finding out they were gay.

That night Neil was sitting on his sofa for a change, legs stretched out comfortably with his Mac book resting on his knees. He knew he was early but did not mind waiting as he has so much on his mind. Things he wanted to think through before he joined the chat once more.

Bits and pieces of their virtual conversations were popping up in his head and he found himself wondering not for the first time where in hell this experiment was going to lead him.

“It’s almost two weeks since it all started,” he mused. “And I still don’t know his first name. Actually, I don’t know much about his private life at all. Not where he lives, where he works or what he actually does for a living.”

He hadn’t revealed anything more himself but strangely enough it didn’t feel like they were hiding things from each other; those things just didn’t seem that important. A little noise indicated that he had received a private message and distracted Neil from his train of thoughts.  
When he checked, he found that it had been sent by northernlad once more. He wasn’t even looking at any other messages or chat invitation he received anymore. Mostly it was just about sex anyway and apart from that he somehow could not bring himself to care about the other guys. He couldn’t have said why exactly but something about northernlad sparked his interest.

The message was short, but it contained an attachment.

“Hi there, just thought you’d like an upbeat song. I love dancing to that, especially on Ibiza. Talk to you later, nl.”

Northernlad had taken to simply use nl as substitute initials when he signed his emails and had also started to nickname Neil smart aleck, or just Alec for being a bit of a clever dick, as he had put it once.

Neil opened the attachment and turned the speakers on. Uplifting house music blasted out of them. The file tag on his music player informed him that he was listening to the original mix of Vaca’s Move Me. 

While not exactly extremely keen on that kind of music himself, Neil still appreciated the sheer energy and passion. He wasn’t very likely to put a CD with house or dance music on while he spent a quiet evening at home but in a club, he would really like it.

Neil grinned. Wouldn’t it be fun to pretend that he didn’t have much knowledge and much less taste for anything hat could, even remotely, be considered pop? To sort of take his Headmaster Tennant role to the extreme?

Noticing that the icon indicating the user status had changed from offline to online, Neil opened the chat and started typing.

“Hi there, thanks for the track. I’m listening to it now. Not totally my cup of tea but still very nice. I’d sent something back to you but I don’t want to spam your inbox with a whole concerto or an aria.”

“Hi Alec,” came the reply almost instantly. “Well, that sort of fits my impression of you. At least you didn’t end up deaf because of the track. Maybe there’s hope for you yet, then.”

“Hope for what exactly?” Neil asked, quite enjoying their little banter.

“For loosening up. If you wanna get on with me, you’ll have to come clubbing.”

Neil laughed when he read this little remark. Yes, this was definitely going to be fun!

“And why do you think I need loosening up? For all you know I could indulge in revelries while listening to my concertos and arias.”

There was a moment of silence, then a grinning smiley popped up. It was closely followed by another message.

“Man, you dig your words up from somewhere deep. If revelry is something like a binge, I get the idea. They say that still waters run deep, and what could be quieter than a bibliophile? But now that you’ve mentioned self-indulgent habits, I’ll call it time for a little round of truth-or-dare!”

◊◊◊◊

Chris rubbed his hands together gleefully. If this wasn’t going to needle the bibliophile, then he didn’t know what would.  
He half expected the bibliophile to protest, to say that there was no way he was going to take part in such a childish activity, but no objection came. Instead, he thought he could almost hear the amusement in the bibliophile’s word when he read his next message.

“I bow to your suggestion,” the other man had written. “But pray tell, how are we going to handle the dare bit if one of us refuses to answer a question?”

“Good point, mate,” Chris replied. “I’d say that the one who refuses to answer the most questions has to pay for dinner when we meet on the 29th. What do you think?”

“Ahh, I didn’t know you were planning on a romantic candlelight affair. Not that I mind. Alright, it’s a deal then. Fire away! No, wait, please! I have the feeling I’m going to need some liquid courage tonight, so let me fetch some wine first.”

Chris didn’t stop grinning while he waited for the bibliophile to return. This evening promised to be fun! Maybe his new friend wasn’t as strait-laced as Chris had feared him to be after all.

“I’m back and as ready as I’ll ever be,” the bibliophile announced after a few short minutes. “Sitting comfortably on my sofa with the notebook on my lap and a glass of decent Merlot within reach. So, please, have the honour of asking the first question but keep in mind that you’ll have to answer as well.”

“Cheers, then,” Chris wrote. “I’m sitting on my bed. Fully dressed, so don’t get funny ideas. Drinking beer as usual. Soo… the first question: When did you get your first kiss and how was it?”

“I’m not pointing out that these are in fact two questions… Oh gosh, let me think. I must have been eight or nine. At least I was still in junior school. It happened at the back of a classroom while all the other kids were playing outside. I guess we sneaked back in. It was nice, really. Didn’t put me off kissing, at least. She was all soft and I sort of liked that.”

“You kissed a girl?” Chris asked automatically.

“Well, she kissed me,” the bibliophile specified. “But yes, I kissed a girl. Not the only time, by the way. How about you?”

“Hmm, I must’ve been the same age. About nine. My cousin thought I needed to be taught. He was four years older than me and was sure he knew everything about girls. Well, I believed him! The kiss was cool, even though he tried to put his tongue into my mouth and that felt a bit fishy.”

◊◊◊◊

Neil found himself laughing hard as he read northernlad’s last comment. Fishy! Now that was not he context gay men usually used that word in.

“Are you sure your cousin wasn’t a girl when you say it was fishy?” he teased.

“There’s nothing girly about my cousin. But I don’t have any experiences with females so I can’t compare.”

“So, you’ve been bent from the start? Congratulations!”

“Bent as can be,” the lad agreed. “Your turn now.”

“Right. Here’s the question: What’s the worst chat up line which has been used on you?”  
“That’s an easy one,” northernlad replied almost at once. “Must’ve been this one: ‘Your jeans would look better around your ankles when I fuck you!’”

Reading the answer made Neil nearly spit his sip of wine back out. He coughed and wiped his chin before he wrote back.

“Good gracious! Did somebody really say that to you?”

“Yep. A Latino did. In a trendy club when I was in New York about three years ago. Didn’t take the hint, though.”

“Dear, that was really terrible. I always hate it if people quote things, I said back to me,” Neil wrote, thinking of the odd fan boys who had tried to get into his pants and thought themselves extremely clever when using a quote from a Pet Shop Boys song as a chat up line. “One of the worst ones I heard possibly was: ‘Do you sleep with strangers? No? Then call me Tony.’ And it always makes me shudder when you’re just standing at a bar and a guy is watching you and then simply starts sucking on his middle finger.”

“Yeah, that’s cheap, isn’t it? That makes us even so far. So, here’s my next question: What’s the worst thing you ever did to a boyfriend or lover?”

Neil stared at the question for a long moment. He couldn’t even have said why he suddenly felt so uncomfortable or why that simple question made him think of Stefan. Memories of their fights flashed through his mind and he closed his eyes against the guilt that came with them.

Why on earth had he treated the boy like he had? Screamed at him, pushed him so hard that the boy stumbled and fell to the floor? Betrayed him and lied to him without any reason? Ignored him and acted all too often as if he didn’t care? He had no answers. He was not proud of what he’d done but it was all history now and could not be changed.

“I think I’ll skip that question,” he replied without giving any further explanation. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t even want to think about it because thinking about it would wake up too many ghosts.

“Okay.”

Neil was thankful that northernlad didn’t question him about his refusal to answer the question and glad that he could push his gloomy thoughts aside while reading on.

“The worst I did to a boyfriend of mine was not caring enough when he would’ve needed me,” northernlad revealed. “I couldn’t cope with the situation. Behaved like s school kid, really. Avoided the issue as much as I could and went clubbing all the time. Drank too much, too. Slept around. Been a real arsehole, if you ask me now.”

Neil nodded in silent concurrence. He knew the temptation of escaping when you couldn’t face reality. All his life he’d been good at running from things: Places, situations, people. Mostly people in latter years.

“Listen, if you want to talk about it, I’ll listen,” he offered. “But I’ll also understand if you don’t want to drag things up.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that, but I don’t really want to talk about it. Bloody brilliant, I ruined the mood. Didn’t want that.”

“Never mind,” Neil replied. He then leaned back and rubbed his face with one hand. He felt a bit weary and was wracking his brain how to cheer things up once more. He put his Mac book aside for a moment and took a big mouthful of wine, savouring the taste.  
◊◊◊◊

Chris felt like kicking himself for spoiling the light-heartedness of their earlier discussion. He hadn’t really appreciated the seriousness of his question. But they were both no spring chicken anymore, of course they had skeletons in their closets! And blood on their hands, it seemed…

He waited for the bibliophile to reply, getting a bit restless when the seconds ticked by and nothing happened. When the next message finally popped up on his screen, he breathed a sigh of relief and read it eagerly.

“Okay, let’s exorcise the bad vibes. Top up your glass and drink it down in one go, will do the same with my wine. Let it be a toast to our dark sides!”

Chris chuckled. Of course, he was not going to point out that he wasn’t using a glass but simply drained half of his can before he replied:

“Good idea, Alec!”

“Isn’t it? There’s nothing like a mild intoxication to brighten up the mood… In your profile you described yourself as active but versatile. It seems to me that most gay men say that about themselves, so my question is if you really mean it or if you’ve just put it like that to make you seem less… submissive.”

Chris whistled to himself. Now it was getting interesting! If he wanted to discuss intimate details, then the bibliophile must have thought about more than conversation with him.

“No big deal about this,” he wrote. “It’s just that I like to fuck. If you give me the choice, I’ll always go active myself, but I don’t have issues with being passive.”

“I can follow that,” the bibliophile informed him. “I have a problem with those strict categories people tent to put themselves in these days. Gay/straight, top/bottom, butch/sissy… In my opinion there are far more shades of grey than these pigeonholes suggest.”

“Yeah, I agree with you on that one,” Chris wrote back. “If it was just me, it’ll be enough to describe oneself as sexual. I mean, what does it matter if you go for boys or girls or men or women or whatever might exist in-between the two? When it comes down to it, you like someone; you fancy someone, or you love someone.”

“Yet you described yourself as gay,” the bibliophile went on. “As in: not straight or bisexual.”

Chris sighed. How was he going to explain his point of view?

“Let’s just say that I don’t really believe in labels, but it makes life easier if I use them. I ticked the gay box because it communicates that I’m attracted to men and that I’m a man as well. Call it using labels as a short-cut. It’s not very consequent, but I’m not really militant about it.”

“I guess I follow your train of thoughts. Actually, I find it refreshing that you are linking it to attraction rather than plain sex. It makes it sound so much more flexible. I think it can change to whom and what you are attracted during your lifetime but the terms gay or straight are making it sound so final. As if there’s a point in your life where you make the decision to be either and then you can’t depart from it. And in addition to all that, there’s something else which puts me off the labels,” Chris read, half pleased that someone else out there had at least bothered to think along the same lines as he had, half amused that the bibliophile seemed to take the discussion quite serious.  
“It’s all the cultural baggage hat comes with those terms,” the bibliophile continued his little rant. “All the hidden meanings, the supposed stereotyped behaviour. I’m mean, just because I’m usually attracted to men does not make me a Barbara Streisand fan! Well, I’ll admit that there’s some grain of truth in every cliché but more often than not they do not apply. I hope.”

“Something you’ve thought about?” Chris teased. “But you said you’re gay as well, didn’t you?”

◊◊◊◊

Neil pulled a face when he read the lad’s last question. Somehow, he had expected it.

“Yes, I did,” he typed back. “For the same reasons you did. Using the term saves you time to explain. Usually at least.”

He stopped briefly, hoping that his little tease would not be misunderstood.

“If I’d say that I almost exclusively find myself physically attracted to men these days, have done so for almost 20 years but have been equally attracted to women in the past and – at least in theory – don’t want to rule out the possibility that I might be attracted to women again in the future, I’d be wasting a lot of breath.”

◊◊◊◊

Chris grinned. What else had he expected? Some complicated way of thinking for a man who liked to use complicated words. It was just so fitting.

“Wasn’t the question if I was a top or bottom?” he brought the discussion back to the starting point. “How about you?”

“It depends,” came the vague answer. “That’s why I choose versatile. I was almost always a bottom with my first boyfriend and almost always the active one with my last one. I didn’t mind being taken; the only thing I didn’t like about it was that my first boyfriend used his preference to exercise power. You know, as the dominant one, he’d be the one with the most power.”

“And with your last one?” Chris inquired.

“With my last one,” the bibliophile replied, “I ended up being active because he was totally inexperienced. And I realized that it sort of suits me better. I hate not being in control. Not just concerning sexual issues, but generally speaking. You can’t really say you’re in control of the situation when you’re lying spread-eagled across the bed.”

Chris had to giggle when he finished reading. Somehow the image of he bibliophile, whom he imagined being a little bit conservative and straight-laced, being spread out on a bed, naked, with arms and legs out-stretched, vaguely looking like a star fish, was quite amusing. Unsettling, too, but mainly amusing.

“Right, enough of all the deep talk. We’re playing truth-or-dare, remember?”

◊◊◊◊

Neil sipped his wine and smiled. This all so unreal! Here he was discussing intimate subjects with someone he didn’t really know and yet he wasn’t feeling uncomfortable or embarrassed. Maybe it was true that sometimes it was easier to open up to strangers…

“Yes, I remember,” he acknowledged. “Dimly. So what’s the next question?”  
“The next question is: What’s your favourite sexual activity?”  
Neil merely arched an eyebrow. Either he wasn’t as sober as he thought he was anymore or all the years of having the questionable honour of knowing Kevin Anderson had somehow influenced him.

“There once was a time when such a question would’ve really upset me,” he thought.

“No more beating around the bush, Mister?” he wrote. “Are you trying to avoid unpleasant surprises? I’m afraid I’m not terrible adventurous in this regard. So I’d say: kissing, getting a blow-job and fucking. You?”

The answer popped up on his screen almost instantly.

“Kissing? Really? You count that as sex?”

Neil found himself laughing at how astonished northernlad sounded.

“Yes, I do. Don’t you? I think kissing is incredibly sexy.”

When the reply came it was Neil‘s turn to be astonished.

“I’m not that keen on kissing. It’s too intimate. I only like kissing if I’m really close to someone,” he read.

“So, you don’t kiss one-night-stands?”

“If I can avoid it, no,” the lad answered.

Neil stared at the screen for a long moment in disbelieve. How could you not like kissing? 

There were so many different ways you could kiss someone, so many different things you could communicate by kissing. You could be gentle and comforting with your kisses; careful, barely touching the skin of your lover. You could be teasing, licking and nibbling and biting. Or you could be passionate, demanding and hungry. Think deep, hard kisses that plundered your lover’s mouth, taking as well as giving, yet were never quite enough. You could say I love you with kisses or I need you or simply speak of desire. You could worship your lover with kisses…

He shook his head and once more concentrated on what northernlad had written. 

“I’d put fucking on top of my list, then 69s and than everything else which isn’t kinky.”

Neil grinned to himself. Well, kinky was a term that allowed for a wide definition.

“What do you consider kinky?”

“Well, everything that makes me go yeeek!” Northernlad answered.

“Now that’s a really helpful reply,” Neil mumbled under his breath as he read on.

“Stuff that involves peeing or shitting. S/M. Bondage. Sex with animals. When someone’s turned on by children. Blood-play. Cruelty. That’s it, mostly. Did that count as your next question?”

◊◊◊◊

Chris stretched a little and drank the last of his beer. He hadn’t thought that Alec would respond so readily to his naughty questions. He had expected protests and refusal but instead the bibliophile seemed to have been frank with him so far.

Not a bad sign, was it?

“You can count it, if you want,” the reply started. “I don’t like the stuff you mentioned as well. And I never quite understood the appeal of darkrooms or cruising, but I don’t think a lot of gay men would call those kinky”

Chris grinned. “Creeping around in some dark park, kneeling in the mud for a hurried blow-job and the danger of getting beaten up, robbed or arrested are not really my favourite past time either,” he typed, thinking that sometime during their nightly conversations he must have picked up the bibliophile’s style.

“Do you have a favourite fantasy?” he asked quickly.

There wasn’t a reply for a long while and Chris realized that had been holding his breath when the next message finally popped up on his screen.

“Fantasy?” Alec had asked. “Like in: What do I think about when I wank? Or like in: Do I have some unfulfilled sexual dreams? Really, you’re so nosey! Good thing that I’m feeling slightly tipsy after my third glass of wine otherwise you’d never gotten me to discuss this in such length.” 

“Don’t give me funny ideas when you talk about length in this context,” Chris teased.

“Size queen,” the prompt reply read. “And no, it hasn’t been measured but from what I’ve seen it’s sort of average. In length.”

Chris sent a widely grinning smiley back and wished he had another tin of lager within reach. He felt a bit hot all of a sudden.

“Okay, if you don’t want to specify your question…,” the bibliophile continued. “When I toss of I usually don’t think about much. Unless I’m in love or really fancy someone, then I’d be thinking about him. You know, him touching me or feeling his mouth around my cock. But these thoughts aren’t terribly elaborated, just fragments. As for the other option: Don’t know if it’s a fantasy but I think it’d be an interesting experience to just let someone else do things to you. Not kinky stuff, just sensual things. Knowing that you don’t have to respond but are allowed to only…feel.”

“So, you wanna lay there and let somebody else do all the work?” Chris asked, but the vague image of some naked guy lying spread-eagled on his bed, letting him do whatever he pleased swam at the back of his mind and wouldn’t go away. 

“If you want to put it like that, yes,” the bibliophile replied. “It’d be interesting to see if I could give up control completely and just allow someone to bring me to completion. Slowly.”

Now Chris had to swallow hard. Yet even when talking about coming the guy managed to sound slightly pretentious.

“… to bring myself to completion, my hairy arse,” Chris mumbled. “Isn’t there a more elaborate term you could’ve used?”

Ignoring the fact that his pulse had sped up, he typed just one word: “How?”

◊◊◊◊

Neil laughed when he read the question. My, my, he was more than tipsy, he was getting drunk and he didn’t mind. It was strangely thrilling to write these thoughts down, to share them with an unknown guy who wasn’t more to him that a boring nickname and a vague personality expressed in black letters on a white screen.

He closed his eyes briefly and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was feeling rather hot and somehow, he didn’t think it had anything to do with the room-temperature.

Without much thinking he continued typing: “By him taking his time exploring my body. Kissing me all over. Stroking, massaging, licking. Whatever. Making me really…horny before even touching me down there. But enough about me, what’s your favourite fantasy?”

There was a long pause before the lad’s reply flashed up on the display. Neil didn’t really want to think too closely about what might have kept his new friend. Well, maybe he’d simply got himself a new tin of lager…

“Me? Ehm… Nothing quite as sensual,” he read. “But for some reason I’d always wanted to get something going on a plane. In the toilets. During a trans-Atlantic flight.”

“Naughty one,” Neil replied. “You’d give some poor flight attendant a heart attack.”

“Only if it was a female one who caught me,” northernlad wrote back. “A male one might join in.”

Neil finished the last of his wine and barely managed to stifle a yawn despite of the subject of their discussion. Not that he wanted to end their chat like this but he should better call it a night soon.

“Much as I hate to end this more than enlightening round of truth-or-dare but I’m getting tired. Have to get up early tomorrow.”

“No problem,” the lad assured him. “I should get some sleep as well. You’ll be paying dinner, don’t forget that Mister!”

“How could I, if you remind me that nicely?” Neil continued the tease. “Do you have time tomorrow evening around ten?”

“Yeah, but not for long. A friend and I are checking out some new club tomorrow and we wanted to grab a bite to eat beforehand.”

“Whatever,” Neil found himself typing but in truth he experienced a stab of something that felt suspiciously like jealousy.

“Why the hell does it bother me that he’s spending the evening with some other guy? Christ, I don’t know him!” Neil chided himself mentally.

Northernlad could do as he pleased, just as he could do as he pleased. It wasn’t like they had any kind of commitment towards each other just because they had been chatting every night for ten days now.

“Talk to you tomorrow then, take care.”

“Yeah, you, too.”

“Sweet dreams!”  
Having typed those last words, Neil logged out and cut the internet connection. Jesus, what on earth had this been?

◊◊◊◊

Chris stared at the bibliophile’s last words. Sweet dreams? That sounded almost… flirty. Did he just have too much beer and was imagining things or was there something starting?

He shut down his notebook and resisted the urge to drown another tin of lager. No, no, he was drunk enough if he entertained such thoughts. He, who was usually a very tactile person and needed a physical connection to get interested in someone. Much as it would possible surprise most of the Pet Shop Boys fans out there, in private he was a very touchy-feely person who enjoyed causal touches and friendly embraces even with friends he wasn’t remotely interested in sexually.

And still…

Still the typed words of the bibliophile came back to him. What he had said about his preferences and fantasies. Somehow the guy had revealed some very intimate details. More so than Chris himself, perhaps. He felt like he’d done the sort of gay talk all the guys in the clubs practised. Who were always trying to sound cool and detached when talking about sex. Turing it into some kind of leisure activity. Like going to the movies or working out.

Chris shook his head vigorously as he stepped into the bathroom and carelessly threw his clothes to floor as he undressed. What kind of crap was he thinking tonight? God, he really needed a cool shower!

◊◊◊◊

Neil had thought that he would fall asleep as soon as he’d switched the lights off but instead, he found himself staring at the ceiling for the longest time. He couldn’t quite believe that he had revealed so much about himself that night. Things that even his best friends didn’t know. God, his head was spinning and not only because he’d had a little too much wine.

Then suddenly it hit him with full force, the realization that he was desperately turned on after their virtual game of truth-or-dare.

“Oh, bloody brilliant,” Neil cursed and kicked at his blanket. He still felt uncomfortably hot underneath the duvet. This was all so silly! There was no way he was going to even contemplate tossing off just because of some words on a computer screen. 

By the time he finally managed to drift into a short and fitful sleep, he was frustrated beyond believe. His mind just always insisted on returning to their earlier topics and he was wondering far too many times what it might be like to share those things with northernlad. The actions and not just the words…

◊◊◊◊

When his alarm clock woke him at 8.30h, Neil found himself in the same poison he had apparently fallen asleep in: he was lying on his belly, half hugging his pillow. He had kicked the blanket down so that it only covered him up to the hips and now he felt cold and stiff. His neck ached but what was even more annoying was the fact that his hard-on from last night was still bothering him.

He sat up reluctantly and turned the alarm clock off, just barely resisting the urge to throw that dammed thing against the opposite wall.  
He went straight to the bathroom and showered. With cold water. Very cold water.

Apparently, he had managed to be more stubborn that his stupid erection, he noted with grim satisfaction when he stepped out of the shower. At least it had faded underneath the icy spray. After his confused dreams and the strange thoughts, he couldn’t shake, he hadn’t been in the mood to actually do anything about it anyway.

◊◊◊◊

Chris on the other hand was in a good mood when he woke up. He didn’t dare thinking too closely about the reason for that but somehow the prospect that he’d meet the man who seemed to be a master of expression and had indeed caused him some interesting dreams in two weeks time had cheered him immensely.

He ordered coffee and turned the radio on. It was still tuned to Kiss fm, one of his favourite dance music stations and at the moment Rozalla’s ’92 hit Everybody’s free blasted out of the speakers. Without bothering to get dressed he danced around for a few moments. 

There wasn’t anything like starting a new day with a little dance in the nude, a nice hot shower and some strong coffee followed by a decent breakfast, was there?

◊◊◊◊

When he arrived at the studio not even five minutes late, he found Neil already sitting by the old piano, some pieces of paper and his Mac book spread out on the top, taking notes and impatiently crossing out complete sections of what he’d written. 

He walked up behind his friend and without warning poked him in the ribs. It made Neil jump and drop his pen. Chris laughed; it was just too funny how this little trick always seemed to work with the old guy. He could sneak up on him like that and startle him every time. Just another little thing that added to his good mood this morning.

Unfortunately, Neil didn’t react very kindly to his tease.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snapped. “Leave that crap and rather tell me where on earth you saved that bloody instrumental piece we worked on yesterday!”

Still laughing Chris stepped away and sat down on one of the plastic chairs which were scattered around the room.

“A good morning to you, too,” he grinned. “What got you into such high spirits? And by the way, you saved the track you’re talking about to that nicely labelled drive of yours, complete with the take number ad date.”

Neil stared at him for a long moment. Chris had to fight hard to suppress another huge grin. His friend really had some chip on his shoulder this morning! For a moment he looked like he was about to say something but then closed his mouth without speaking.

Chris could see the effort it cost Neil to rein in his temper and for a second feared that he’d crack and start shouting. But nothing of that sort happened. Instead, Neil only closed his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. When he opened his eyes again, he once again looked straight at his friend.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “But you know how much I hate it when you do this to me.”

“Yep,” Chris grinned back. “That’s why it’s so much fun doing it!”

Neil glared at him but then only shrugged his shoulders.  
“My nerves are a bit jangled, that’s all,” he explained wearily.

“Exhausting night?”

“What? No! Not what you think. I simply couldn’t sleep and now I’m knackered.”

“I see,” Chris replied, not quite able to ban the amusement from his voice. “Then I can’t persuade you join Sergey and me at the re-vamped Crystal Palace tonight?”

Neil just shook his head. His thoughts drifted back to his virtual date with northernlad later that evening. No, he was not going to miss that. Even though the last chat had unnerved him quite a bit.

“Funny, how many people are going clubbing during the week,” he thought.

◊◊◊◊

Later that day, during their lunch break, Neil sat back down in front of the piano and logged on to the internet. Chris was fetching lunch for both of them and frankly speaking Neil was quite glad to have a few minutes to himself.

He just couldn’t stop thinking about northernlad and all the things they both had said – or rather: typed, Neil reminded himself – and was now impatiently waiting for the dating site to load. When he had typed in his password, he went straight for his inbox and, with a mixture of relief and excitement, found that the lad had sent him another email.

It made him smile just seeing that little notification – northernlad has sent you a personal message – and when he clicked on it was only mildly surprised that it once again contained an attachment.

“Good morning Alec,” he read. “Hope you caught enough sleep. Can’t have you exhausted because of me before we’ve even met. Don’t know why, but our little chat yesterday made me think of two songs. You won’t possibly know them. They aren’t exactly arias, you know? Just a little something I really like. Well, at least the first one is. The second is a bit of joke. Didn’t you say that your last boyfriend was kinda inexperienced? Maybe that’s why I picked it. You have a good day, mate. Talk to you tonight, nl.”

When he was finished reading, Neil grinned and clicked on the attachment. His bad mood was disappearing rapidly. It occurred to him that he should be concerned because he was acting like a schoolboy but he pushed that thought from his mind.

Seeing the name of the two songs that northernlad had sent him, made him laugh out loud. Of course, he knew those songs! Okay, his headmaster persona might not but the real Neil sure as hell did. And what a cheeky bugger that lad was!

The first one was Temptation by The Flirts and by now it was really getting difficult for Neil not to read anything into their banter and little innuendoes. He took a shaky breath. Was he prepared to go for it? For whatever it was?

He didn’t have to play the song; he knew it and possibly all the others on this LP by heart. Still. After all these years. It must have been early 1984 and Chris had basically worshipped the record. And the guy who’d produced them even more. The guy who’d been Booby O. What had followed was now, as they say, history.

Neil sighed. And remembered. The day he’d first met Chris. The thrill of it and later of discovering that he’d found someone who shared his dream. The decisions he’d made…

He shook his head slightly as if trying to clear water out of his ears. It wouldn’t do him any good to dwell on past crushes.  
Thankfully the title of the second song returned the grin to his face.

“How can you be gay and not know about Divine?” he mumbled. “You think you’re man (but you’re only a boy) makes an unlikely theme song for Stefan but how could you know? Cheeky bugger, indeed!”

◊◊◊◊

When Chris returned some minutes later with one large pizza diavolo and a chicken salad for his friend, Neil wasn’t brooding over his papers anymore. He didn’t even seem to be working and instead had opened a small window leading to the back yard and stood in front of it, seemingly enjoying the bit of sunlight that fell into his face.

“Come on, lunch is here,” Chris called out and crossed the room to a small table. He sat down and unpacked the Italian food from his plastic bag, setting the salad and some small rolls down on the place opposite to him.

Neil sat down a moment later, his gaze intently fixed on his food, but Chris didn’t miss that his friend could barely suppress a huge grin.

“What’s up with you now?” He asked in between bites. “Where’s your good mood suddenly coming from?”

He could’ve sworn that Neil had blushed a little but couldn’t be quite sure as his friend kept his head down on the pretext of examining the salad.

“Nothing’s up,” he replied quietly. “Just got an email from a friend that cheered me. Some sort of silly joke, that’s all.”

“An email from a friend? One he doesn’t even name?” Chris mused. Could it be that Neil was seeing someone and hadn’t told him? Was the old guy about to fall head over heels with someone again? Chris grinned. He only hoped that for once his friend had learned his lesson and was not reviving his doomed relationship with that German boy.

◊◊◊◊

Another week had passed, and Neil had just arrived in his house in Durham. His train had been significantly delayed and it was already dark outside. His sister’s husband had picked him up from the train station and was just pulling out of the parking space near the front door and heading towards his home.

Neil did his usual round after having dropped his bag in his bedroom. He switched the heating on in all the rooms he was likely to use, drew the curtains or blinds and then went to the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea.

Originally, he’d wanted to head straight over to his sister’s place, have dinner with her family and fetch his dog Kevin, but the presence of his Mac book which waited in his notebook bag in the sitting room across the entrance hall kept taunting him.

It wouldn’t hurt to check if the lad was online, would it?

Neil carried his mug of Earl Grey tea over to the sitting room and unpacked the notebook. He shivered slightly; this house was always cold somehow. Well, there certainly were enough nooks and crannies to let in cold draughts from the moor.

And indeed, when he had logged on to the now more than familiar dating site, he found that northernlad was online as well.

The lad’s first message popped up only seconds after he’d completed logging in.

“Oh hi, Alec. Hadn’t expected seeing you here tonight. Just send you another song. How was your journey?”

Neil smiled to himself. Northernlad was sending him songs almost regularly these days. He had a funny little collection by now and had even transferred them to his Ipod. He’d been listening to the playlist labelled northernlad during the train journey from London Waterloo to Durham. The selection of songs was so odd that it had made him smile.

That house track had been the first, The Flirts and Divine had followed, then northernlad has surprised him with a Buddy Holly song – Brown eyed handsome man. (“Came across this song by chance,” the lad had written in the accompanying email. “As you asked about the colour of my eyes, I thought it’s sort of fitting.”) Dusty’s Just one smile had been next and then such diverse songs such as: My baby just cares for me by Nina Simone, My favourite things from the Sound of Music, Take my to heaven by Baby D, a unnamed white-label mix of Moby’s Disco lies and finally The Killers’ When you were young.

“The journey dragged a bit,” he typed back. “The train got delayed and we were stranded in the middle of nowhere for about 45 minutes. Otherwise, everything’s fine. I’ll check your email later; I’m due for dinner at my sister’s in a minute. Just wanted to see if I’ll catch you.”

“Missed me so badly?” the lad teased.

Neil paused, feeling strangely caught out. But in a way it was true, wasn’t it? He could hardly wait to start chatting to northernlad once he came home and had a bit of time on his hands.

“Sort of,” he replied vaguely. “Listen, I really have to go now but you can catch me anytime tomorrow or the day after. I won’t be doing anything much around here. Just going for a walk and having tea with my parents.”

“Have fun with your old folk,” the lad wrote. “I’ll be checking for you late tomorrow afternoon. Good night!”

“Thanks for the newest song,” Neil concluded. “Sweet dreams!”

It had become his standard way of saying goodbye ever since they’d played truth-or-dare. Neil didn’t really know why but it felt more intimate than, say Talk to you tomorrow.

◊◊◊◊

Chris, who was still staying at the hotel in London, smiled when he booted down his notebook. He was possibly just being plain ridiculous but the fact that the bibliophile had missed him pleased him immensely. Well, the guy as good as admitted it, hadn’t he?

And anyway, was it normal that these days he felt like a bunch of butterflies had collected in his stomach whenever he caught sight of that little blinking icon that indicated that the bibliophile had come online?

Just one more week to pass, then the big day would come. Chris had no idea where their meeting would take place. As the bibliophile had to buy dinner it was clear that they’d meet at a restaurant but anything else hadn’t been specified yet.

Chris didn’t even know if the bibliophile would’ve returned from his stay with his family until then.

“Got to mention that I won’t mind driving to wherever his parents are living,” Chris thought when he flopped down on the bed and switched the TV on.

◊◊◊◊

True to his words, northernlad had come online shortly before 5 p.m. the next day. Neil had made himself comfortable on the big sofa in the main living room, Kevin lay curled up at his feet and he had half finished a cup of Blue Mountain coffee.

They had chatted for a while when the lad suddenly asked: “How did you like the last song?”

Neil hesitated for a moment. The last song in question had been Flash to the beat by Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five. What would the Headmaster say about the song?  
Neil decided not to answer directly and instead just observed:

“You seem to be quite keen on these early 80’s songs. Why’s that?”

“Yeah, that’s true,” the quick reply read. “Don’t know, really. Maybe because everything was kinda new back then. I’d come to London for the fist time and all the clubs were soo exciting. There was so much new music around. It was just really cool. I remember that I dragged a friend of mine to the clubs where they played such songs. High NRG, disco, early rap.”

“And did your friend like the songs?” Neil asked.

“Hmm, at first he really hated them, but I won him over in the end. Ah, those were the days…”

“Were?” Neil asked. “Don’t you know him anymore?”

“No, I still know him. We’ve been really good friends ever since back then. Best friends, possibly. It’s just that everything was different then.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s sort of silly of me to come up with that now,” northernlad admitted. “But for a while after I bumped into him, I thought that we’d be more than friends. Don’t get me wrong, I never regretted that we became friends but back then… I sort of had a bit of a crush on him but I don’t think he ever noticed. Had other things on his mind, maybe. He’d been dumped by his last partner shortly before we met. Bad timing, what do I know? But it’s okay, it’s not like I’m still pining about him.”

“You better shouldn’t,” Neil typed back, feeling a bit odd about this little revelation. “You can start again if our meeting turns out to be a disaster.”

“Always looking on the bright side of things, are you, Alec?”

Neil chuckled. People always accused him of having a bit of a negative outlook on life.

“I just like to be prepared for the worse,” he retorted. Which made him a realist, right?

◊◊◊◊

It was Tuesday, 26th February and his blind date with the man who’d nicknamed himself northernlad was only three more days away. Neil thought it was almost an understatement to say that this prospect made him nervous. Slightly panicky was possibly closer to the truth.  
Not that he had the leisure to dwell on that right now. Chris and he were just returning from the visit they had paid to Dainton’s widow, Mandy who lived in Hackney. They hadn’t talked much since they’d left, and Neil’s guessed that Chris was once again hanging on to his memories about their former assistant.

They’d been stuck in a traffic jam for about ten minutes without having made one inch of progress when Chris shook himself out of his reverie and put a CD into the player. He turned down the volume so that the music wouldn’t drown out any conversation.

“Shall we go out for dinner?” Neil suggested, just for the sake of saying anything at all.

“Hmm,” Chris took his time to make up his mind. “Yeah, okay. What about The Bar Italia for a quick bite? I could use one of their espressos.”

“Fine with me,” Neil readily agreed, glad that Chris hadn’t shut down completely like he’d done so many times since that dreadful night in October. Sometimes it really hadn’t been easy to get close to him, to offer some kind of support.

“What do you think about…?” Neil had started but the rest of his question faded into nothing when his attention got caught by the next song that had started to play. My baby just cares for me had just finished and now Julie Andrews was singing about her favourite things.

Neil just stared at the CD player. Something about the succession of those two songs irritated the hell out of him.

“What?” Chris demanded, having caught the bemused expression on his friends face.

“Oh yeah, I know, you can’t stand that anymore,” he muttered and skipped to the next song. Which was none other than Take me to heaven.

Now Neil really felt liked he’d been punched in the stomach. It couldn’t be true. No way that this could possibly mean what he thought, no, what he feared it could mean.

“What’s all this?” he asked, trying hard to sound casual. “You’ve got some odd songs on this CD.”

“This?” Chris echoed. Neil thought that he looked a little embarrassed for a second.

“Just a compilation I made for a friend. I was trying to compile some Chris Lowe signature tunes, you know?” Chris explained.

Neil said nothing and just stared straight ahead through the windscreen. Even if he’d wanted to say anything, he wouldn’t have been able to. What he’d just discovered had left him completely speechless.

His thoughts were reeling, and he even felt a little sick. “Those songs,” he kept thinking. “Those songs… They’re on my playlist. They… northernlad sent them to me. No, no, please, no!”

He must have paled rapidly because he suddenly felt Chris’ hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly. His friend’s voice seemed to come from somewhere very far away when it finally cut through his musings.

“Neil? Are you okay?” Chris sounded worried. “What’s up?”

Neil forced himself to blink and face his friend. It cost him every last bit of composure to keep his face straight when he answered:  
“I’m just dizzy. I’m… I’m feeling a bit claustrophobic.”

“Oh shit,” Chris cursed. “Shall I pull out and find a parking space so you can get a bit of fresh air?”

“No,” Neil shook his head. “No, don’t bother. Just let me out here and I’ll walk home.”

“You sure?” Chris seemed reluctant to let him go like that. “Not that you faint or something.”

Somehow Neil managed a weak smile. “Don’t worry; it’ll pass quickly once I’m outside.”  
He was already unbuckling his seatbelt and reached for the doorknob. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

Chris just nodded and watched as Neil left the car and slammed the door shut. He gave a half-hearted wave and then turned and walked away.

Chris only hoped that his friend hadn’t caught a cold or worse, flu. He didn’t want to spend the next days in bed with high temperature and coughs. Not now that he was finally going to meet the bibliophile.

◊◊◊◊

When he’d left the car, Neil just headed for the next best intersecting street. He only wanted to get away, out of Chris’s sight. He walked for about ten minutes in a total daze when he passed a little greasy spoon café. He was a mess and a hot drink sounded like a good idea, so he entered.

He’d learned that from his Mum and his sister as well: when things got bad, the first thing you did was make yourself a cup of tea. As if that bit of hot liquid could actually keep the various catastrophes at bay.

He was the only guest, and he was glad of the quiet that had settled about this little shop like a blanket as he slid into a booth by the windows with a big mug of steaming tea. It was not at all like he usually preferred it; it was weak and sweet and had far too much milk in it. But it was alright, and he sipped it carefully as he tried to get a grip on his thoughts and feelings.

The songs that Chris had played in the car had been some of the songs which northernlad had sent him. Chris’s CD followed the line up of the songs as Neil had received them. Which could only mean…

Neil set the mug down and buried his face in his hands. Yes, it could only mean one thing: that Chris and northernlad were one and the same person.

“Have I really been such an idiot?” he wondered. Had it all been nothing but a joke? “Chris doesn’t know that I’m using this site,” he reasoned with himself. “Nobody does. Not even Janet. But how big are the chances that both of us are using the same dating site and end up chatting to each other?”  
About as big as the chances that you’ll end up meeting someone who’ll be a part of your life for the next 27 years when you’re just went out to buy a fucking plug, a voice in his head suggested.

When he left the little café 40 minutes later, he felt remarkably calm. He was even whistling softly to himself as he headed down the street in the direction that would in time take him back to Chelsea.

He had thought everything through, he was quite certain of that. Had considered all the options and now had a plan and was ready to gamble. Just to be on the safe side, he’d do some reading once he was back at home but somehow, he thought that nothing he’d find in the lad’s past messages would really change his mind now. He smiled a careful smile. In three days’ time he’d be wiser, that much was for sure.

◊◊◊◊

When he’d reached his flat in Chelsea, Neil immediately phoned Chris. He wasn’t even angry anymore, only totally flabbergasted that once again a little coincidence had the potential to turn his life upside down. But then again, he didn’t really believe in coincidences.

He’d found it difficult not to laugh out loud when Chris answered the phone. Coincidence or not, the whole situation was so damned bizarre that the giggles threatened to overwhelm him.

“No, really, I’m fine,” he assured Chris for the third time. “Don’t know why that happened this morning, maybe it was because I had this dream about the lift again.”

He didn’t have to explain any further, Chris knew all about his dreams in which he was stuck in a lift and the walls seemed to draw closer and closer.

“Will you come to the studio tomorrow?” Chris asked.

“Yes, of course I will. I’m not ill, but I’ll leave for up north again on Thursday evening,” Neil explained. “Simon and his bunch are paying Mum and Dad a visit.”

“Greetings to your brother,” Chris said. “See you tomorrow then.

When he’d hung up, Neil once more switched his Mac book on and re-read all of the messages he had received from northerlad. He was beyond feeling embarrassed about the fact that he had saved them all in the first place.

It took him the best part of an hour to read through everything and when he was done, he rubbed his eyes and stretched. Well, there was nothing in the messages that contradicted his assumption that northerlad and Chris were one and the same.

And the bit where Chris…

No, the lad, Neil stubbornly reminded himself.

Somehow, he was not quite prepared to call the person he’d been chatting to during the last three weeks by his real name just yet. There still was a chance that he’s gotten it wrong and Chris had nothing to do with all of this. An extremely slight one, but still…

…the bit where northernlad had told him about his best friend who, in the early 80s hadn’t been very fond of disco music but had changed his mind later, fitted as well.

When Neil had first got to know Chris he’d still been in his singer/songwriter mode and had listened to Elvis Costello.   
But that wasn’t the main point, was it? The lad had said that he’d had a crush on this friend of his but nothing had come out of it. If this was true and the lad was Chris, then…

Neil got up from his armchair and started pacing the floor. Half-heartedly he wished he were still smoking, at least he would have something to occupy him and take the edge of his nervousness.

…then Chris had had a crush on him! And hadn’t said a word about it.  
Just as Neil hadn’t mentioned he’d had feelings for his new friend back in 1981. Well, not back then and not ever. Hadn’t mentioned it because the moment for it had never come.

◊◊◊◊

When Chris went online later that evening, he had absolutely no idea that his friend was already nervously waiting for his first message to arrive. His good mood had returned after the somewhat taxing meeting with Mandy. God, he was getting impatient to finally meet the guy he’s been chatting to in the flesh.

“Hi Alec,” he started. “How was your day? Do you have a moment, or do you want to get a drink first? A glass of wine?”

“Hi there,” the bibliophile replied almost instantly. “My day was…very interesting. Revealing, I’d say. No wine for me tonight. We have plans to make and I think being sober is better for that.”

Chris frowned. Something in the bibliophile’s tone made him cautious. Had he said anything that could’ve upset the guy?

“Still three days to go,” he wrote. “And I don’t expect you to pay for The Ivy, so making arrangements shouldn’t be a problem.”

“It’s not that,” the bibliophile explained. “I’m sorry but I won’t make our chats tomorrow and on Thursday. I’ve to go away for business. Do you think you could make it to Edinburgh on Friday?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Chris reassured him. He was always glad for an excuse to drive long distances. He just loved driving, even if he now just used his battered old jeep.

“Good,” the bibliophile wrote, and Chris hoped that the guy was smiling now. “I’ll mail you the address of the restaurant where we’ll meet. I hope that I’ll be able to get a table at the place I have in mind. Couldn’t call them earlier, I only learned about the trip today. Which time could you be there?”

“How about 7 p.m.?” Chris suggested.

“Yes, that’s fine.”

“But how will I recognize you?” Chris asked, hoping that maybe he’d now get a photo.

“I’ll be wearing a black suit and will have a book in plain sight on my table. A copy of Bob Dylan’s Behind the shades. Don’t dress too causally please as they operate a rather strict door policy at the place I’m thinking about.”

Chris frowned. Behind the shades? He had seen this book somewhere only recently. Someone he knew was reading it, he was almost certain of that.

“Must’ve been Neil,” he mused. “He’s always reading stuff like that.”

◊◊◊◊

The chat had been brief after they had agreed on the time for their meeting. Neil hadn’t had the nerve to go on with this charade for longer than necessary. He only hoped he’d be laughing about this sooner rather than later.

When he switched his notebook off, he felt weary. Afraid and yet giddy. Because it was impossible to predict how his friend would react when he found out that the bibliophile wasn’t some mysterious stranger. Yet he was hoping against hope that whatever had developed between the bibliophile and the lad would survive the moment the masks came down: that the connection between them had been for real.

◊◊◊◊

The next morning, Chris rushed into the studio. He was late, even by his standards and that meant he was damn late by Neil’s standards.

Muttering curses to himself, Chris pushed the door to their actual working room open and inwardly braced himself to be greeted by a cutting remark. To be lectured by an annoyed Neil in his best headmaster mode first thing in the morning wasn’t exactly Chris’ idea of a good start into the day.

Only silence greeted him, though and no remark came, cutting or otherwise and Chris dropped dead in his tracks. He was folding away his sunglasses and finished the task in slow motion.

It took him a few moments to register what was so odd about the room he’d just entered. It was the fact that he saw precisely nothing. Or rather: no-one. The room was empty, and everything looked like it had when the two of them had left the place the evening before last.

Chris frowned. Where the hell was Neil? He quickly checked his mobile but there were no missed calls, no texts, no messages on his voice box. Not knowing what to do, Chris walked slowly through the room, searching for clues. He found none. No little note scribbled onto a tiny piece of paper. Nothing. Again.

He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and morosely trotted back to the reception. The young Indian looking woman in charge of the phones looked up when he entered and smiled her shy little smile.

“Mr. Lowe? Can I help you?” she asked politely.

Chris pulled a face and then forced a smile in return. How often did he have to tell her that she needn’t treat him as if the very ground he walked on was paved with gold?

“Ehm, no, not really,” he muttered. Then he thought again and looked enquiringly at her.

“Or maybe you can,” he began. “Has Mr. Tennant left a message?”

She blushed almost before he’d finished asking his question and nodded.

“Oh yes. I’m sorry, Mr. Lowe. Hasn’t Craig left the note on the table as I asked him to? Lazy boy, he’s possible out in the back yard smoking again!”

She caught herself rambling and after taking a deep breath, went on explaining:

“Mr. Tennant has indeed left a message. He called in rather early and asked me to tell you not to wait for him. I think he said you should start working on that piece you left in bare bones the other day.”  
She seemed to quote Neil verbatim and for some reason it made Chris smile.

“He said, he’ll be coming in later but didn’t specify the time. He also said he’s fine and the delay has nothing to do with lifts,” she paused, looking puzzled. “I hope that makes more sense to you than to me,” she finished.

“It makes perfect sense,” Chris assured her. “Thanks. Oh, could you sent in some tea for me?”

The woman, whose name he could never remember, nodded and reached for the phone, which had begun to ring.

Chris went back into the studio and closed the door behind him. Well, if he had the place all to himself, he’d make good use of it.

“Places like this weren’t build soundproof for nothing,” he thought and grinned.

That Neil hadn’t called him personally to say that he wouldn’t be in by 11 o’clock – as was his custom – didn’t really bother him. As long as the old geezer was fine, Chris was okay with some studio time on his own. The way Neil’s message had been quoted back to him didn’t make Chris think that some terrible news had kept his friend and that was really all he had to know.

His thoughts had already fixed on the unfinished track Neil had referred to as being nothing, but bare bones and he sat down and got to work immediately.

◊◊◊◊

The only thing that made Chris realize that quite an amount of time must have passed was the fact that when he reached for his cup of tea it was ice cold and rather disgusting. He grimaced and put it back down. Messing around with different drum sounds and weird samples usually did this to him: it drew him in and made him forget everything else.

When he turned to stretch the sudden realization that he wasn’t alone in the room anymore startled him badly. He took an involuntary step backwards and, in the process, almost knocked the cup down.

“Neil!” Chris exclaimed. Sometimes the guy was too annoying!

“What the hell are you doing? How long have you been sitting there like that?”

Neil, who sat perched on the edge of a metal drawer barely an arm’s length behind where Chris had been sitting, laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

“For five minutes. Maybe ten.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Very funny!”

“Yes, I thought so, too,” Neil agreed, looking smug. He had his arms folded across his chest and shot Chris a strangely intense look.

“Oh really?” Chris grumbled and stared back. “So? What’s up? Where’ve you been?”

Neil smiled a cryptic smile, stood up and walked across the room to the sofa without answering straight away.

As he watched him, feeling somewhat exasperated, Chris realized that something about Neil looked different than it had yesterday. Chris frowned and tried to figure out what exactly made him think so. While Neil was searching for something amidst the mountain of bags which had been piled up on the sofa Chris stole careful glances at his friend.

Neil wore dark blue jeans and a shiny black, long-sleeved shirt with silver pinstripes. Now that wasn’t so strange even though normally, he wore plain black in private. The jeans, though, for once, weren’t slightly too long and fitted well. Fitted rather tightly, Chris noted, which made Neil look taller. He mused that his friend must’ve tried a different designer as the cut was unlike the one he usually preferred.

When Neil turned this way and that during his search Chris saw that he wore no tie and that oddly he’d also let the upper two buttons of his shirt undone.

“Did you have these glasses before?” Chris finally asked.

Neil looked up and shook his head.

“No, they’re brand new. But it’s no big deal, my eyesight hasn’t changed.”

“They suit you,” Chris said. They were sleek, wire-rimmed glasses of a matted grey colour and slightly thicker temples. Chris thought they looked a touch more modern than his friends’ previous wireless ones.

“And you had your hair cut as well. Did they dye it? It looks different.”

Neil was now crouching in front of the sofa and seemed to have found what he’d been looking for. He laughed.

“Haircut: yes. Dyed? No,” he giggled. “Now that would’ve been like painting an egg.”

Chris grinned. “Hey, that’ll be a new look. Pet Shop Boys go Humpty Dumpty!”

Neil ignored him and straightened up, two small paper bags in hand.

“No, it’s not dyed,” he continued. Just some silly shampoo. Y’know, super gloss or what have you. The girl in charge today thought it was a real fab idea to try this on me.”

He looked a little uncomfortable but then shrugged it off and threw Chris one of the bags. He had cleared the sofa of the bags, which were now piled up on the floor next to it and with a sigh sat down.

“What’s this?” Chris asked, indicating his paper bag.

“Lunch,” Neil replied but before he could say anything else, the Indian looking woman came in, after having announced her entry with a brief knock.

“The tea you asked for, Mr. Tennant,” she said and put a tray containing two mugs, a bowl with sugar cubes and a small container of milk as well as a steaming pot of tea down on the small table in front of the sofa.

“Thanks, Mara,” Neil smiled at her and placed the mugs for him and Chris.

“Is there anything else you need? Mara asked and looked from one man to the other enquiringly.

“No, everything’s fine,” Neil answered and looked at Chris. “How about you?”

Chris just shook his head and finally sat down on the sofa next to his friend.

“Alright. Denis will take over in an hour, in case there’s anything else.”

Both Neil and Chris said their goodbyes and when Mara was gone, Chris started to examine his paper bag while Neil poured some tea for both of them.

“Oh nice, ciabatta with ham,” he said. “Thanks.”

“Parma ham,” Neil observed, “with Dijon mustard.” He unpacked his own crab sandwich. “From Harvey Nichols.”

“So, you’ve been shopping? Chris asked in between bites and looked sideways at his friend. Whatever shampoo Neil’s hairdresser had used on him, it’d made the white hair at his temples look almost silver.

“Yeah, I woke up this morning and decided that the emperor needed new clothes,” Neil explained and fished some paper napkins out of his bag before he began eating. After a moment he continued:

“Just did the usual round. Starting at Sloan’s Square and see how far down the King’s Road you get before you’re all fed up. I called it quits at Gucci’s.”

“You’ve shopped at Gucci?” Chris looked incredulous.

“Yes, and I can tell you they’ve got some very fine suits in their new collection.”

“What happened to your usual favourite, Dior?” Chris asked.

Neil shot him one of his headmaster looks for speaking with his mouth full but didn’t comment.

“Oh, I still like Dior. But today I wanted something less…, well, less classical. Something different. Needless to say, I found quite a bit,” he smiled and pointed at he pile of bags.

“What did you buy?”

“Two suits, one Gucci, one Prada,” Neil began. “The jeans and the shirt I’m wearing now are both Yves Saint Laurent. Then I bought another pair of jeans from Boss, some T-shirts, socks, underpants, a belt and shoes at Harvey Nichols.” 

He took a sip of tea and then continued summarizing the results of his shopping spree.

“Some new aftershave, which, according to the shop assistant, is both subtle and sensual.” He laughed. “Well, whatever that’s supposed to mean, but it smelled quite nice. Hmm, let me think… No, I guess that’s about it really.”

Chris grinned and leaned back comfortably. “Not bad for a couple of hours in the morning. “But why all the new stuff?” He winked at his friend. “Sounds like you wanna dress to impress. Some new guy on the scene?”

Neil once again shot Chris one of his strangely intense stares and grinned. “As if you wouldn’t know if some mysterious stranger had arrived who’d stolen my heart. Usually, you’re able to read me very well and can tell when I’m head over heels.”

Chris nodded; feeling a little odd because of the way Neil kept looking at him. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. But you’re acting a bit peculiar lately and for the hell of it I can’t figure out why.”

“You think I’m acting strange?” Neil asked. For some unfathomable reason he looked incredibly pleased with the idea. “Maybe I am. Maybe something has come up. Maybe there’s someone I’m interested in. Who know? Let’s just say that you’ll be the first to know if anything real comes out of all the strange acting of mine.”

Chris stared at his friend for a moment and tried to make sense of what Neil’d just said. Had he missed something or was Neil simply enjoying playing Sphinx?

“I spent almost an hour at Gucci,” Neil went on after a moment of silence. “I must’ve tried on every fucking suit in the store. You should’ve been there,” he grinned again. “You could’ve admired the new Gaultier boxer briefs I bought on a whim the other day.”

Chris blinked. Had he just heard this correctly? Neil suggested he should’ve seen him changing suits wearing nothing but boxer briefs? Well, and socks, most likely. Not that it mattered. And then… Somehow the images the name Gaultier conjured didn’t seem to go very well with the style his friend cultivated. But back to the point, why’d Neil just said this? With anybody else Chris would’ve thought had been flirting with him. Which wasn’t bloody likely, was it?

He tried to shrug his surprise off and simply replied: “That wouldn’t have been a big deal. Just how many times have I seen you in trunks?”

Neil laughed. “No big deal? That, my friend, lies – just like truth or beauty – in the eye of the beholder. Depending on if what you see is what you want or not.”

◊◊◊◊

Neil was glad when he was back in his house in Durham late on Thursday evening. For most of the time spent with Chris in the studio he’d been on edge and trying hard not to let it show. He worried that he’d gone too far with what he’d said on Wednesday morning and kept re-running the conversation in his head. Chris had given him odd looks, mostly when he thought he wouldn’t notice.

Neil sighed. Suddenly everything had become so complicated again. Chris was watching him, searching for clues to heaven-knew-what and he himself had only detected that because he’d been watching Chris! It was so odd and beyond funny and yet he couldn’t think of anything else but the blind date he’d arranged for the next evening and if it was really Chris he was going to meet.

Even though it was already way past 10 p.m. and pitch dark, he’d only dropped off his bag, changed into more comfortable clothes and shoes and then had headed outside for a walk. He was far too restless to even consider going to bed.

Zipping up his jacket, he slung a scarf around his neck and buried his hands deep in his pockets and set out on the small path leading form his house into the hills and, ultimately, into the moor.

The wind was cutting and fierce and bit at his ears, but Neil didn’t mind. Somehow, he had come to appreciate the force of nature as an antidote for personal troubles in the years since he’d come back home.

It was dark out here as moon and stars were hidden behind a thick cover of clouds. The landscape around him consisted of dark shades and scales of grey and white. Frozen snow crunched underneath the soles of his feet with every step he took and his breath painted little white clouds into the chilly air.

How he had reacted to his discovery that northernlad and Chris were most likely one and same person puzzled him still. Initially he’d been shocked, even angry, and mostly disappointed but then all of it had faded he’d realized that he was pleased to find that his date was Chris in disguise. Pleased to find that there must have been something in his bibliophile persona that had attracted his friend enough to agree to a blind date. Pleased that he might get a second chance.

It was this thought that unsettled him the most; that even though he might have made the right decision back then in ‘81 when considering the bigger picture of their mutual career, the price they both paid hadn’t been a minor one.

He remembered that fateful August day so well, could recall even the smallest details so clearly, even after all those years. Sometimes it was hard to believe that 27 years had passed since destiny had come knocking on his door in the form of one architectural student named Chris Lowe.

He’d been waiting in the small, crammed electronics shop for over 15 minutes for that guy behind the counter to finish making the alteration to that plug he needed to start using his new synthesiser, when he’d heard footsteps behind him. Soft, shuffling ones, made by someone with trainers on his feet, who wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do now that the shop assistant was nowhere in sight and had only hesitantly stepped up behind Neil.

Neil remembered how he’d turned, almost automatically and looked at the stranger who’d just come in. Chris had stood there, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans, shoulders slightly hunched as if he was trying to hide himself and had smiled a quick, shy smile. Neil’d nodded back and turned back quickly.

He hadn’t known why but suddenly he’d been terribly nervous. After another few minutes in which they had both waited in silence, Chris had spoken up behind him.

“Ehm, excuse me, is somebody serving you or is there nobody?”

Neil’s turned again and this time faced Chris fully. “Well, there is,” he’d explained. “He’s just fixing something for me, a plug for my synthesiser. He said it’ll take a few minutes but now he’s gone for a quarter of an hour or so.”

Chris’ face had lit up, like Neil’d just said some magic words.

“Synthesiser?” He’d asked. “You own one? Cool!”

Everything that had followed was, as people said, history. Neil could still recall Chris’ smile that had quickly broadened into a wide grin, that near manic, naughty laughter. But most of all he remembered the expression in Chris eyes. Chris’ eyes, which had been so dark and sparkling with enthusiasm.

Neil sighed again. It was always the eyes with him, wasn’t it?

And now he was thinking about those eyes far too much once more. Like all those years in between hadn’t happened and he still were that uncertain young man who’d fallen hard and was terrified he would ruin the newly founded friendship if he ever revealed his feelings.

Neil rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. If Chris was northernlad…Then Chris had had a crush on him once as well.

“And isn’t it ironic?” Neil muttered to himself as he decided it was about time he followed his footsteps back to the house.

◊◊◊◊

It was late on Friday morning and Chris thought that if he stared for even one second longer at the ceiling above his bed, he’d surely go mental. He’d been awake most of the night, even though he’d been playing Grand Theft Audio for four hours straight when he’d felt all restless and full of nervous energy before he’d gone to bed.

His thoughts were going around in circles and yet he couldn’t’ stop thinking about the same two things over and over again.

One was the date with the bibliophile and the other was the odd way Neil’d been behaving towards him lately.

With a load moan and some frustrated punches aimed at the innocent pillows, Chris finally untangled himself from the messed-up blanket and got up. He yawned and stretched, feeling hung over and rough even though he hadn’t had more than a pint for lunch last night.

He trotted over to the bathroom and ran a bath. At least the hot water would relax him and ease the pain the tensed-up muscles in his neck and shoulders caused him. While the tub was filling up, he went back to his living room to put on some music. He chose Nina Simone’s Greatest Hits and put the volume up, letting the mostly slow, mournful songs fill up the empty space around him.

Back in the bathroom he poured some scented bathing oil into the hot water and climbed into the tub. Sleeping in the nude saved you so much time when you thought about it, he mused.

He let himself sink into the hot water and sighed. Now that was nice! He closed his eyes and held his breath and dipped underneath the surface for a moment. When he came back up he had to shake the water from his ears and leaned back, feeling a little more relaxed.

Just why he felt so incredibly nervous was quite beyond him. Okay, he was going on a blind date but really, he had nothing to lose. He didn’t know the guy and if it all went horribly wrong then he simply wouldn’t see him again. It would be easy enough to delete his profile from that dating site and to change his email address.

But something about it all, something about the bibliophile kept nagging at him at the back of his mind. He felt like he was seeing part of a puzzle but was missing the key part and it drove him nicely ‘round the bend.

And then there was this thing with Neil… Not that he could’ve said what irritated him about his friend’s behaviour; it was a vague feeling that something wasn’t like it always had been. And again he couldn’t work out what that something was.

He sighed again. “You’re getting old and paranoid, that’s all there is to this,” he muttered. “Paranoid and sentimental!”

Like so often during the past few days, he recalled the 19. August 1981. The day he’d first bumped into Neil.

The thought made him grin. Neil’d been such a geek back then! He’d been wearing those terrible Elvis Costello glasses, the wrong kind of jeans and a loose-fitting shirt in some terrible colour and design. His hair had been a mess, too. He’d had those slightly outgrown curls, which hung into his eyes all the time.

It had been so odd, if they hadn’t got talking in this shop, Chris didn’t think he even would’ve looked twice at Neil had they met at a bar or club. But as soon as you got that nervous guy talking, especially about a subject he felt passionate about, something happened. At least that’s how Chris had felt about Neil in the early days.

There’d been something in the way he talked, the choice of words, even his accent. The sheer conviction with which he argued, no matter if he turned out to be right or wrong in the end.  
Then, one morning after a night he’d spent on Neil’s sofa after one of their late night talking sessions, he noticed that the geek could look kind of fetching with a bit of five o’clock shadow and without his glasses. His pale blue eyes were quite commanding if they weren’t hidden behind the horn-rim.

Chris remembered how he’d watched Neil from the sofa, who was sleepily preparing toast and tea. He’d been wearing only a T-shirt and boxers.

“He’s got really nice legs.”

The thought had crossed Chris’ mind and then Neil’d realized that he was awake and had smiled at him. His boyish smile and Chris thought it was the cutest thing he’d seen in a while and that was it. Bam! He’d developed a crush on his new friend.

Maybe it had been more than just a crush, but he’d never said anything and now they were wherever they were these days and that meant… What?

“That you’re reading far too much into all of this!” Chris mumbled and pulled the plug and watched the water go down the drain before he finally got out and grabbed a towel.

◊◊◊◊

At first Neil’d thought that the hours until their blind date wouldn’t pass at all, the seconds and minutes were crawling by and he kept making himself even more nervous by glancing at his watch every two seconds or so.

He had taken the train to Edinburgh just shortly before noon, had checked into the hotel he was going to have dinner with northernlad and then simply had tried to pass the time by wandering around the city watching people.

Now it was already 15 minutes to 7a.m. and Neil couldn’t have said what he’d done with the day. The hours had slipped by without leaving an impression and now it was time to get ready and face the music.

He stood in the brightly lit bathroom and critically looked himself up and down in the huge mirror opposite the shower cabin. His new shoes were highly polished and seemed to sparkle in the bright light. The suit fitted like a second skin, his tie was done to perfection and the cufflinks were just visible underneath the jacket sleeves.

There was nothing he could’ve done with his hair, but he was clean shaved and with a deep breath he pushed his glasses up his nose and nodded at his reflection.

“Come on, time to go down,” he muttered to himself. “There’s nothing else you can do now anyway. Only wait and see. And hope for the best!”

He switched the lights off and grabbed the Bob Dylan biography from a small table next to the main door and walked along the corridor and down the stairs until he’d reached the restaurant. Feeling ready to faint, he nevertheless pushed the door open and entered.

A waiter who had already changed back into his own clothes and was now wearing a nondescript black suit, greeted him immediately and took the book from him.

“So, I just sit down there and pretend to be reading this book?” He asked and Neil nodded.

“Yes, you’re reading it and just wait until someone comes up to you and asks you about it. You don’t have to say much, I’ll be stepping in as soon as I’ve seen who’s going to met me.”

The waiter looked at him with a face expression that clearly communicated he considered Neil to be more than just slightly mad but did as he was told anyway. Neil couldn’t help a small, amused smile. A generous tip usually let people forget their second thoughts.

He went over to the small bar, which thankfully was partly hidden from view form the main dining area by some columns and plants. Even though he really would’ve liked a glass of rich red wine right now, he only ordered still water. If he was going to met whom he hoped/feared to meet, he’d need his wits about him.

He glanced at his watch again. Almost 5 past 7.

Only a heartbeat later, though he heard the door being pushed open and the soft murmur of the waiter’s voice welcoming the newcomer. Footsteps passed close to him and then stopped. Neil resisted the urge to turn around and look until he heard the hum of a sort conversation in muted tones.

He closed his eyes briefly, trying to get a grip on his nerves. When he put his glass down, he noted that his hand was trembling. His mouth had gone dry and he didn’t seem to be able to swallow past the lump in his throat.

“God, this is worse than stage fright,” Neil thought and did his best to ignore the pulse hammering in the vein of his neck and his frantic heartbeat.

Someone had asked about the Bob Dylan book and the waiter was dutifully explaining that he was just keeping the table. Neil knew whom he was going to see before he even turned around to look. He knew that voice so bloody well.

Chris was standing in front of the small table and said something to the waiter who looked a little helpless. Thankfully he had his back toward Neil and so didn’t see him approaching.

“You can leave now, I’ll take it from here,” Neil addressed the waiter. “Thanks for your help.”

He didn’t really see how the waiter got up and, with a quick wave at his colleague, left the restaurant because Chris spun around and faced him with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Good evening, Chris,” Neil simply said, fighting hard to appear calm.

“What’s all this about?” Chris demanded in a dead voice that promised trouble. “Do you think you’re being funny? Playing little games with me, Neil? Forget it!”

With that he turned on his heel and stormed out of the restaurant. Neil blinked. He might not know what he’d expected but certainly not that. Chris had been absolutely furious; Neil knew that without a doubt. And now he’d left without letting him explain.

Talking another deep breath and squaring his shoulder, Neil set out to do what he’d never done before: he went after someone who’d walked out on him on a date.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he informed the waiter, who looked puzzled, but didn’t stop to explain any further.

When he left the hotel, he stopped briefly to look in all directions and spotted Chris walking down the street to his left. He was walking fast and Neil only hoped that he hadn’t had his car parked nearby and would be gone before he caught up with him. Without thinking he began to run and soon was only a few meters behind his friend.  
“Chris!” He called out. “Chris, wait. Let me explain. Chris!”

But Chris ignored him and just walked on, increasing his speed as he did so. Neil jogged on behind him, not willing to give up.

“Christopher! For fuck’s sake, wait a minute and let me talk to you!”

This had done the trick; Chris had dropped dead in his tracks and now just stood there in the middle of the pavement, not moving. With a sigh of relieve Neil slowed to a walk and stopped a few steps behind his friend. With a nervous gesture he pushed his glassed back up his nose and then began to speak.

“I know it’s all dead weird,” Neil said, not quite knowing how to put it all into words. “But whatever it is, it’s not a joke. I’m not playing games with you, Chris. When have I ever done this before? What reasons would I have? I’ve got noting to gain from playing some silly game with you. Do you believe me?”

Chris said nothing but after a long moment nodded curtly.

“Okay,” Neil went on quickly. “You never told me you were looking for dates as northernlad on that site. How could I’ve known? And you didn’t know I was doing the same because I never mentioned it to anybody.”

“You mean…?” Chris finally turned to face him. For the first time it registered with Neil that for once his friend wasn’t wearing trainers but neat black shoes and a straight cut, very dark blue jeans, a white shirt and a formally cut, black leather jacket.

He tried a smile. “Yes, I mean that I’m bibliophile54.” He took a mock bow and then just looked at his friend.

“Wow, that’s… that’s really odd!” Chris mumbled. He stared at Neil for a second and then said:

“You don’t seem to be surprised. How did you figure…? Oh, no, don’t tell me, it was the CD, was it? In the car the other day?”

Neil nodded. “Yes, it was the CD. I was more than surprised back then, believe me!”

Chris grinned briefly. “But why are we here then? I mean, if you knew…?”

Neil had dreaded that question and gave a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders.

“I’m here because I liked northernlad,” he explained. “I’m here because it made me think about the beginning. Because I wanted to see…” his voice gave in and he had to swallow a few times before he was able to continue.

“Because I wanted to see if there can be something more than friendship between us.”  
Chris blushed fiercely and chose to study the tips of his shoes before he spoke.

“Well, you’ve got nerves; I have to give you that.” He looked up and saw that Neil still stood there looking both embarrassed and cold. 

“Chris laughed. “Freezing, are you? Shouldn’t go out without a coat in this weather,” he teased.

Neil stuck his tongue out at him and indicated the direction of the hotel.

“Care for dinner?” He asked with a small smile.  
“More for drinks right now,” Chris answered but followed Neil back inside.

◊◊◊◊

Chris’s thoughts were reeling as he walked the way back to the hotel next to Neil. On one hand it sort of made sense and on the other it was so far out. 

“No wonder I kind of felt really close to the bibliophile,” Chris thought. “It’s not like I chatted to a stranger…”

He had no idea what he was going to say or do once they were seated at the dinner table. He’d had dinner with Neil more times than he dared counting and yet everything was different between them, wasn’t it? 

He stole sideways glances at Neil and realized just how nervous his friend was. A casual observer wouldn’t have realized as Neil was good at keeping up appearances and was now walking next to him like he’d walk down the red carpet of some Westend premier: he kept his back straight and looked directly ahead. 

Chris smiled to himself. He knew all the little tell-tale signs which told him that Neil’s calm facade was just that: a façade. His hands were in constant motion, for example and he kept pushing his glasses back up his nose every few seconds. Plus, his voice had quivered when he had revealed why they both had ended going on a blind date together.

Chris thought back to what Neil had said only moments before: “…if there can be something more than friendship between us.” 

As he considered the implications, he felt overwhelmed. It made him nervous, excited and a bit giddy. He also felt strangely touched by Neil’s words. All his anger just vanished, and he found himself grinning. It was going to be a remarkably interesting evening!

◊◊◊◊

As the waiter took Chris’ leather jacket and handed it over to the cloak room, Chris got a good view of Neil’s outfit.

Both the pants and the jacket of his new suit were made of a silky, shiny material on which the light created muted rainbow effects. Both were tailored to fit closely and accentuated the outlines of his body extremely well. The narrow lapels were done in smooth black velvet and Neil had chosen to wear a plum-coloured shirt and a slender tie of the same colour.

As he walked next to Neil over to their table, Chris suddenly turned towards him and told him in a low voice so that the waiter wouldn’t overhear him:

“You look dishy in that suit. Sexy!”

This time Neil blushed but said nothing and instead just took his seat and accepted the menu and separate wine list from the waiter, who then stepped away.

After a moment he put them both down on the table and looked at Chris over the rim of his glasses.

“Don’t tease me, I already told you that I’m not playing games with you!”

Chris held up his hands as if surrendering. “I wasn’t teasing. I meant it,” he assured his friend and as he said it realized that indeed he had and not just as some casual observation.  
Neil looked stunned and then nodded slowly. “Drinks first?” he suggested.

Chris grinned; sometimes it was almost too easy to make Neil slightly uncomfortable.

“Do you drink wine with me tonight or do you go for your usual lager?”

“Hmm, first I need something stronger. What you said outside has sort of knocked me off my feet. A shot of vodka should do, I guess and then I’ll be happy to drink wine.”

He pointed at his shirt and winked at Neil. “The outfit and the occasion really call for something more sophisticated than lager!”

“Something more sophisticated than lager?” Neil arched an eyebrow. “That shouldn’t be too difficult.” He studied the wine list for a moment and then pointed out some red wines to Chris.

“Regardless of what we’re going to eat, I don’t feel like white wine right now,” Neil said.

“You’re sure that you don’t want something stronger as well?” Chris asked, not quite able to hide his grin. 

“Yeah, pretty sure,” Neil sighed. “You know I don’t drink this stuff.”

“No exceptions?”

“No.”

◊◊◊◊

When they had placed all their orders and the waiter had disappeared once more, Chris leaned forward, elbows on the table, face resting on his fists.

“You usually have a theory for everything, so tell me: How did we end up here? On a date? And why Edinburgh?”

Neil regarded him for a moment, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts and once more pushed his glasses up his nose.

“The last question is the easiest to answer,” he began hesitantly. “After that moment in your car, then all the songs northernlad had sent me were playing, I just wanted to get away. Then I thought about it all and decided that I would see this through. I don’t know why, but somehow meeting you in London for our date seemed… not right. I didn’t want to go for Durham because that would’ve been too obvious and so I chose Edinburgh. At least I know the city a bit, used to come here on weekends for shopping trips when I was about 16.”

“And the other two questions?”  
Neil pulled a face and smirked. “Don’t be so persistent, Mr. Lowe!”

It made them both laugh and somehow some of the tension melted away with their giggles.

“Don’t you lecture me, Mr Tennant,” Chris shot back when he could speak again.

His remark sent Neil off into another fit of giggles. When he regained some of his composure, he said:

“We sound like the guys from Neverwhere.”

“Don’t we always?” Chris mumbled.

“About the first two questions,” Neil went on and only stopped speaking because the waiter was back with their drinks. When Neil had tasted the wine and agreed to have it poured and Chris had his extra shot of vodka in an iced glass in front of him, Neil continued:

“We ended up here because I invited you and you accepted.”

Chris chuckled but said nothing.

“We are on a date because somehow we both must have felt that it’s not such a bad idea. Because the lad and the bibliophile pushed the connection, we’ve developed during the past 27 years onto a new level. Because… at least I’ve realized that more might be possible.”

The way he had put the emphasis on the word more sent a slight shiver down Chris spine.

“Listen,” Neil went on but then took a sip of his wine. “You sort of told me that you had a crush on me in the early day.” 

Chris nodded and refused to avert his gaze.

“What you don’t know is that I was in love with you, too. From the start. For quite a while.”

Chris couldn’t help but stare at his friend open-mouthed who was now watching him with a seemingly impassive face expression. His right hand was constantly playing with his wine glass, but he said nothing else.

“God, now I really need this,” Chris muttered and drank down his vodka.

“You? You were…?” He asked but the words didn’t really come out as he wanted them to.  
“You were in love with me? Back then? When… when I had… when I was in love with you? Oh, fuck!” Chris cursed. “Why didn’t you say?”

“Why?” Neil gave a bitter laugh. “Why didn’t you? Come one, remember! I was a mess back then! I had no idea what or who I wanted to be. The only thing I knew was that I wanted to make it with my music. I wanted that so badly and then you came along.”

He took another sip of wine and regarded Chris, who looked a little pale and puzzled.

“For the first time someone actually understood.” Neil explained. “Talking about writing songs and lyrics and base lines and whatever else just seemed to be something completely normal with you, not something people laughed at you behind your back.”  
“So, you didn’t want to endanger that by admitting…?”

“Yes, I chose the safer path, I ignored my feelings for you and chose the band,” Neil admitted. “And you? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because…” Chris began but then closed his mouth and instead drank down half of his wine. 

“Because I wasn’t even sure if you ticked that way, you fool. All I knew was that your girlfriend had dumped you not too long ago and you were miserable. When I learned that you fancied men, we… I don’t know, we were already so comfortable in our friendship and I was sure I was over… that crush in the first place!”  
Neil nodded and smiled sadly. “Some irony, hm?”

“Yep,” Chris agreed wholeheartedly. “And that’s the understatement of the century!”

◊◊◊◊

At first, they’d eaten in silence but half way through their starters, an impressive collection of Italian antipasti, they were back to chatting about all sorts of things.

“Oh God, I can’t believe it was you I talked into this truth-or-dare stuff!” Chris said suddenly, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Neil answered. “I certainly never thought I’d be discussing my sexual fantasies with you!”

Chris head shot up and he looked at Neil sharply, then grinned a wicked grin.

“Spread-eagled, huh?”

Neil said nothing for a moment but instead took great care slicing a piece of fried eggplant into small squares.

“Yeah, the laugh’s always on the loser,” he muttered and with a dramatic gesture pushed his plate away.

Chris folded up his napkin, regarded Neil and then smiled.

“Who said anything about losers? I’m sure I could be tempted to take you up on some of your truth-or-dare suggestions.”

That comment made Neil nearly choke on his wine and he ended up with both a fit of coughs and hick-ups.

Chris chuckled but looked sympathetic and without thinking reached out and patted Neil’s hand.

“Easy, mate!

Neil could only stare at Chris, who held his gaze, and Chris’ hand resting so gently on top of his own. Time seemed to freeze, even though in truth the moment lasted for only about 30 seconds and Neil felt for the first time that evening that he might have made the right decision.

“’…then I feel you touch me and it’s 1981,’” he almost whispered, deliberately misquoting the song.

Chris slowly withdrew his hand and nodded. “Sort of. Funny, as you didn’t even write the lyrics. Hey, but at least your hick-ups are gone!”

“Thanks for small mercies,” Neil replied in his best dead pan manner 

“And on to the main course,” Chris announced, who’d spotted the waiter making his way over to their table with two plates in hand.

◊◊◊◊

When the remains of their dinner had been cleared away almost an hour later and they were left with only their half-empty wine glasses, Chris leaned back in his chair.

“Are you going back to Durham?” he asked. “Is there a train going there that late? Or do you have your brother on stand-by somewhere?”

Neil shook his head. “No, I’m not going back tonight. I… I booked a room here. In this hotel.”

“Booked a room?” Chris echoed. “Of course! Typically, I didn’t think of that.”

“You came here without somewhere to stay?” Neil asked, looking amused. “What did you want to do?”

“Well, I figured that if I didn’t like the guy, the dinner would be short and then I would’ve just driven back home. Or maybe stopped over at your place to bother you a bit,” Chris admitted with a grin. “And if I liked the guy… I sort of thought I’d be spending the night with him then. But now it looks as if both options are coming down to the same thing.”

“You don’t have to go back to London,” Neil said a bit lamely. “We could either drive all the way to Durham,” he suggested. “Or you could stay in my room. It’s a double room, so there’s really enough space and…”

As Chris didn’t reply and just looked at him blankly, Neil got more and more nervous. What in hell had he been thinking?

“Don’t get me wrong, if you don’t want to… I mean, I can sleep on the sofa, that’s absolutely no problem and…”

“Neil,” Chris tried to cut in, but Neil just went on. Chris thought it was sweet, the way he was almost stuttering now.

“And… and you, I mean, I…”

“Neil!” Chris said firmly and immediately his friend fell silent. For the second time this evening Chris reached out and grabbed one of Neil’s hands. He squeezed it softly and held it for a second before letting go.

“A double room sounds fine to me,” he said. “And I take it you chose a double room on purpose and not a twin room with two separate beds.”

Neil’s ears were glowing bright red but he said nothing and just looked at Chris.

“Cheeky bugger! How can I refuse such an invitation?”

Neil’s astonished face expression melted into a huge grin.

“I don’t think we have time for pudding or coffee then, right?”

◊◊◊◊

When Neil had unlocked the door to his hotel room and closed it behind them, he went straight through to the living room and switched the lights on. When he heard a funny little noise behind him, he turned around and saw Chris coming over to him. He’d kicked his shoes off and dropped his leather jacket on one of the chairs in the corridor.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Neil asked. “The bathroom’s just over there.”

“Stop playing for time,” Chris told Neil and came closer until he stood right in front of his friend. “Right now, I’m more interested in the bedroom than the bathroom.”

He ran a teasing finger down Neil’s tie and then started to unbutton his jacket.  
“Don’t you think it’s warm enough in here?” he asked innocently and enjoyed the way Neil tensed.

“Get rid of that,” he ordered and stepped back so that Neil could comply.

Neil’s head was suddenly blank, and his heart was once more hammering frantically against his ribs. It wasn’t really happening, was it? He shrugged out of his jacket and wanted to place it over the backrest of the nearest chair, but Chris took it from him and chucked it to the floor.

“How can you be so patient?” He asked and grabbed Neil by the tie and pulled him closer towards him. Neil wisely said nothing and just watched as Chris firstly undid his tie and threw it to the floor as well and then started with the buttons of his shirt. Beginning at the neck, he took his time to open them one by one and soon was pulling at the hem of Neil’s shirt to free it from the trousers.

“Always so neat,” Chris commented with mock disapproval. “You can be neat again tomorrow but right now I think we should speed things up a little.”

He ran his flat palms down Neil’s chest and grinned as his friend inhaled sharply and bit his lip.

“Come on, over to the bedroom with you,” Chris commanded. “I’m positive we’re already having one boner between us, so let’s make that two and have some fun!”

Neil burst out laughing. “Are you always that direct?” He asked but nevertheless crossed the room to the bedroom door and pushed it open. He stood there for a moment, searching of the light switch.

“Hmm, let me think,” Chris said from behind him. “Yeah, I guess that mostly I am. Aren’t you?”

Neil laughed again. He’d found the switch and the light came on in the spacious room.

“No, not like this anyway,” he admitted.

“Your own fault, you’ve been messing with innocent boys too much,” Chris said and followed Neil into the room.

“Come here,” he gestured Neil to come close again. He looked him in the eyes and then grinned and pushed Neil’s shirt aside and started licking his nipples. The action had obviously taken him by surprise; at least he staggered slightly and grabbed hold of Chris shoulders.

Chris switched from right to left nipple and back again and took his time nibbling, sucking and licking. Neil’s grip on his shoulders got firmer and when Chris also slipped his hands underneath the soft fabric of Neil’s shirt, Neil finally let out a soft moan.

He was now fumbling with Chris’ shirt but couldn’t really concentrate enough to take on all the buttons and simply pushed the shirt up so that he could touch Chris shoulders and back. He let his hands roam and explored whatever patch of naked skin he could reach. His friend shivered slightly and in respond took one of his nipples between his teeth and pulled.

“Ow! Don’t…”Neil began but forgot what he’d wanted to say when Chris stepped back and simply pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

“Wow,” he muttered instead and reached out to touch Chris’ chest.  
The hair was soft underneath his fingertips and Chris’ nipples were already firm and erect when he squeezed them gently.

“Chris,” he whispered. “I know what you said about kissing but… I’d want to… I need…”

His voice trailed off as Chris placed a hand on his neck and tilted his face down.

“I said I don’t like kissing people I’m not close to. Do you think we can get much closer after those bloody 27 years without… doing this?”

And then they were kissing. Just like that. Neil couldn’t remember later who had initiated it but it didn’t really matter. Chris lips were soft as they first only brushed against his own, but then the pressure got more insistent and the next thing he knew that he was kissing Chris hard and deep and Chris was doing the same. Both his hands held Chris in place by the neck and their bodies were now pressed against each other.

“Make that two boners,” Neil thought and would’ve laughed if he’d had enough air to breath.

When he broke away, Chris was panting and looked deliciously flushed.

“Take a step backwards,” he ordered. “And don’t arch that eyebrow at me, just do it. Good guy! And another…”

He followed and when he was satisfied, gave Neil a little shove. His friend landed flat on his back on top of the bed and gave a little shriek of protest.

“You bastard!” he exclaimed but grinned as he saw Chris stepping out of his jeans. God, that guy really was skinny, but his arms and legs were still nicely covered in hair. It looked dead sexy; Neil decided.

Chris slapped his hands away as Neil reached to open his belt.

“And just who allowed you to do this?” he murmured and took hold of Neil’s feet and pulled his shoes and socks off.

He grinned wickedly and dropped to his knees and then sucked Neil’s toes into his mouth one by one. It made his friend giggle and squirm, but he didn’t let go until he had had his fun with all ten of them. He only stopped when Neil seemed unable to catch his breath in between giggles and with a smug grin stood up.

“Move up,” he said and then climbed on top of the bed next to Neil. He looked at him and dove down for another hard kiss. He finished it by licking along the length of Neil’s throat and then straddled him across the hips and took his time to lick, kiss and bite every inch of skin he had exposed so far.

Neil was definitely hard now; he could feel his erection pressing against his own even through all the layers of clothing that were still between them. He was trying to shift positions, it seemed to frustrate him slightly that he couldn’t really do much more than just lay there and let Chris play with him, but Chris was relentless and pushed him back onto the mattress every time he struggled to gain a sitting position.

Whenever he got hold of his head though, Neil pulled Chris down for another hard kiss and Chris had to admit that his friend was really damn good at this. He liked the way Neil’s tongue darted into his mouth, played with his own and mapped out all of his mouth. He liked the way his lips brushed against his, then pressed down so hard they might leave bruises; the way he bit at them and licked over his teeth.

Neil was panting hard now and Chris himself was getting increasingly out of breath, so he thought he’d better have mercy with them both. He changed positions and kneeled next to Neil and undid the belt and the zip of his pants. Neil lifted his hips from the mattress so that Chris could pull it down his legs. He couldn’t careless that this was his new Prada suit and would possibly be quite ruined after this treatment.

“As nice as these Gaultier briefs are, I’m afraid they have to go as well,” Chris grinned at Neil.

“Only if yours go as well,” Neil demanded and sat up slightly so that it was easier for him to get rid off his boxer briefs. Chris did the same and then they were both just kneeling their, staring at each other.

“Oh Jesus, I never thought I’d get to see you like this,” Chris said in a quiet voice.

Neil swallowed hard and tore his eyes away from the bit of Chris’ anatomy which he hadn’t seen before, at least not like this: fully exposed and hard and basically begging for action.

He shook his head slightly, like he was just waking from a strange dream and then moved so that he was in front of Chris. He grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him backwards until he was lying on his back.

Before Chris could protest, Neil was kissing him again, with less force this time. He let the kiss go on for a long moment, allowing for the passion and need between them to build up slowly and only broke away when he definitely needed some air. He kissed his way down Chris’ throat, across his chest and hips and then straight to the insides of his legs and along the nest of wiry pubic hair.

He couldn’t help a moan, Chris smelled so good. Even there, no, especially there, he corrected himself in his thoughts. He parted Chris legs and kneeled between them and for a second or so did nothing. He only looked at his friend who was laying there spread out in front of him. His cheeks were flushed, his lips slightly swollen from all the hard kisses, a thin layer of sweat was covering his chest and belly and his dick was twitching impatiently.

“You fucking tease,” Chris started to protest but was cut short when Neil began sucking him off without any warning. It made Chris’ hips buckle involuntarily, to suddenly find his straining erection surrounded by the tight wet heat of Neil’s mouth.

“Oh fuck,” Chris cursed as Neil took him in even deeper and worked up a nice rhythm that made his head bob up and down. Who would’ve thought that Neil would go for the real thing that directly? Chris had almost expected his friend to start with some foreplay, like teasing touches or playful licks but this… This wasn’t playful; this was a very serious blowjob, and he loved every second of it.

He was moaning now, and he didn’t give a shit about it. Neil made funny noises at the back of his throat, which vibrated along his shaft and added to the thrill.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Neil was holding his legs apart with one hand while the other was now firmly encircling his own dick. He watched, mesmerized as Neil’s hand moved up and down his shaft, pumping in the same rhythm he was sucking Chris’s dick.

“Neil, stop. Just… Oh, fuck! Just stop or I’ll come right now!”

Neil managed to lift his head without letting go of Chris’s twitching cock and gave him a piercing look. Slowly he firstly stopped pleasuring himself and then lifted his other hand from Chris’s hip. Only then did he let Chris’s dick glide out of his mouth, slowly, so very slowly that Chris could feel Neil’s lips move over his sensitive skin, millimetre by millimetre. 

Neil let himself fall full length next to where Chris was laying and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I hope you’ve got other ideas,” he said in a hoarse voice. 

“Oh yeah, you can bet on it,” Chris assured him and sat up. He’d been able to catch his breath a bit and grinned once more. 

“I liked to watch you wanking,” he said and accentuated his statement by two quick licks across Neil’s nipples. He then licked down Neil’s chest and stuck his tongue into his belly button. It made Neil squirm and his erection twitched as if in approval. He continued for a while but then got impatient and, half crawling all over Neil, whispered a suggestion into his ear:

“Kissing, receiving blowjobs and fucking. Your favourite activities in bed. Well, you’ve had your fill of kissing and as for the blowjob… that was your choice. That leaves the fucking. But I don’t think you should get everything you want on our first night. I think you should just enjoy the ride!”

He could feel Neil tremble slightly underneath his body and saw how he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

“Oh Jesus,” he hissed and then nodded his agreement. Chris rewarded him with another quick kiss and then stuck his tongue into Neil’s ear to get him moving.

“Eek, you’re disgusting,” Neil complained.

Chris just grinned and leaned back on his heels. “Come on, I want you on your hands and knees!”

Neil’s eyes widened slightly but he complied without hesitation.

“I take it we don’t need…?” Chris had started but Neil just said “No,” before he could even finish the sentence.

Chris ran a hand along Neil’s spine and gave his bum a playful slap.

“Didn’t know you could be such a good boy,” he teased. “So eager!”

He positioned himself behind Neil and reached around Neil’s leg and began working his dick with slow, measured strokes. He did the same with his own erection and knew from the way Neil was trembling that he wouldn’t be able to make this last awfully long. He closed his eyes. It was just too sexy, seeing Neil all flushed and turned on and desperate to come. It was almost enough to make him go over the edge himself.

He continued with his playful strokes for a bit longer and then asked: “You don’t by any chance have some lube with you?”

Neil gave a strangled laugh, which sounded a bit like a sob and shook his head. His arms were trembling slightly and he sank down to his elbows.

“No, by chance I don’t.”

“Too bad, then this will have to do,” Chris mumbled but in truth didn’t really mind. He let go of both their erections and then placed his palms flat on Neil’s ass, pushing the cheeks apart. He licked his lips and then began circling his tongue around Neil’s hole. He licked across it, along the crack until it was all covered in salvia and then tried to stick his tongue into Neil. 

It made his friend jump slightly and when he had his tongue worked in a little further, he mimicked fucking as best he could with his nose half buried and spit dripping down his chin. Neil was trembling violently now but didn’t try to change his position. 

“Maybe his yoga was good for something,” Chris thought wryly.

“Oh, hell! What are you…? Oh God, yes,” Neil was getting incoherent. Not that he noticed; his whole attention was taken up by what Chris’ wicked tongue was doing to him. Then suddenly it stopped, and Neil was immediately disappointed that it was over. 

Two slippery fingers were shoved into him instead and he moaned. He wanted this to happen and he wanted it badly. After only a few quick pushes of Chris’s fingers they were withdrawn again and after a small pause replaced by the tip of Chris’s hard dick. He was pushing against Neil’s opening and then just pushed in in one quick go. 

Neil clenched his teeth. God, that hurt! He stayed still and let himself get used to the feeling to being stretched and filled and the pain faded slowly as Chris began moving back and forth experimentally. He soon picked up speed and was fucking him as hard and deep as Neil had previously kissed him.

“Yes,” Neil hissed. “Go on, faster, please. Just, just…”

Chris grabbed him by the hips and pulled him even closer, then reached for Neil’s erection and began wanking him in time with his now frantic pushes.

Chris was seeing stars right now and couldn’t help but just keep on pushing, slamming harder and faster into the tight heat that was Neil and then felt himself falling as something white and hot exploded somewhere within him. He just barely managed to hold on to Neil’s erection but had to stop stroking as the force of his own orgasm claimed him. He let wave after wave of pleasure wash over him and moaned in protest when he felt his head clear a little.

Neil was fighting hard to stay in his current positions. His whole body was trembling, and his arms shook badly and yet he was pushing himself up on all fours and was meeting all of Chris’s pushes halfway eagerly. He felt Chris tense behind him and then his hot sperm shooting out inside of him. Still, he kept pushing back, he only wanted to come. But Chris had a firm grip around his dick, one that started to be painful, and wouldn’t let him. He let out a frustrated sigh.  
“Please, Chris…”

Chris pulled out and collapsed against Neil, who lost his balance and fell forward, face down. Then Chris was prodding and pushing at him and he rolled over so that he was now lying on his back. Chris leaned over him and frantically licked his throat and lapped at a point behind Neil’s ear. His hand was back on Neil’s cock as well and it only took a few hard strokes to make Neil finally come as well.

He shuddered and didn’t want this to stop, it was just too good. He only half heard Chris’s chuckle and when everything was still for the span of a heartbeat. He just lay there and felt reality come back to him.

He was lying on his back, covered in sweat and cum and yet hadn’t felt better in a long time. His breathing was still irregular, and his heartbeat was loud in his ears but when he opened his eyes he saw Chris sitting cross-legged next to him, sucking at his sperm-coated finger, grinning sheepishly.

Neil groaned. “Don’t do this to me now, at least wait until tomorrow morning when I’ll be able to respond in kind again.”

“Don’t worry,” Chris told him. “I’m not up to much right now myself.”

He moved so that he was able to slip underneath the blanket and pulled it over Neil, too.

“It’s a bit too bright to fall asleep,” his friend muttered and placed a soft kiss on his mouth. Then he searched blindly for something on his bedside table. He grinned. It really had been an amazing fuck; he didn’t even remember having taken his glasses off. When he’d found the remote control, he switched all the lights off and in the sudden darkness turned to face Chris.

“Good night,” he said.

“Good night,” Chris replied sleepily and then snuggled close against Neil’s chest. Judging by his deep breaths, he’d fallen asleep instantly. Neil smiled softly and carefully draped one arm around his sleeping friend. He buried his nose in the nape of Chris’s neck and listened to their mutual breathing until he dozed off as well.

◊◊◊◊

He was awoken by the sound of a phone ringing nearby. At first, he couldn’t quite place the noise as it wasn’t the tone of his mobile or his phone at home but after a moment, he sat up grudgingly and reached for the receiver. It was only the wake-up call, telling him it was now 9 o’clock. He muttered a curse under his breath; this meant that they had two hours left until check out.

He replaced the receiver and lay back on the pillows again. His thoughts were racing, and he felt both insanely happy and utterly terrified. Scared that no matter how brilliant last night had been, what had happened between them was going to somehow damage beyond repair what they’ve had beforehand. The thought that he might have risked Chris’ friendship and the future of the Pet Shop Boys suddenly was very real and extremely terrifying.

“Oh Jesus, what have I done? What have we done?” He thought, not knowing if he should dare to wake Chris or not. He turned slowly and in the dim light saw his friend laying there next to him, stretched out on his belly. The messed-up blanket was loosely wrapped around his hip, one leg sticking out. He was facing away from Neil, still sound asleep, hugging a pillow.

Neil cocked his head and just stared at the sight in front of him. It instantly captivated him, how at ease Chris looked in this position, how much younger and how beautiful. Neil felt his sudden panic melt away and smiled softly. Whatever would happen when his friend woke up, he was going to face it without regrets.

Carefully he got up. He didn’t want to wake Chris, not yet.

“Let the peace last a few minutes longer,” he thought and closed the bathroom door behind him. The bright light that came on seconds later made him wince and squeeze his eyes shut. Reality really could be so cruel sometimes!

He shook his head slightly, feeling remarkably sober and clearheaded. Somehow, he’d expected a hangover to greet him this morning. As it was, he only felt sore and tense. Little kinks had worked itself in most of his muscles and made their protests at any movements he made known.

“Fuck, I really need a shower,” he muttered to himself and stepped into the cabin. He felt sticky all over, being covered in dried sweat and sperm. The hot water was a welcome relief, and he closed his eyes and just let the spray wash down on him.

◊◊◊◊

Some noise had stirred Chris from his deep sleep enough that he vaguely realized he wasn’t dreaming anymore. And what a dream that had been! He grinned sleepily into his pillow. Man, he’d no idea that he was capable of such fantasies. Bits and pieces of his dream came back to him and in little explicit flashes he saw himself kissing Neil, undressing Neil and doing other things to him which even in his groggy state send shivers of desire through his body.

“Brilliant,” he cursed “Aren’t I too old for morning glories?”

He stretched and rolled over on his back and realized that the space next to him was still warm and definitively looked like someone had just got up. He frowned. So, he hadn’t been alone last night! 

He bolted upright in bed a second later when the realization hit him. Of course, he hadn’t been alone last night! He’d accompanied Neil to his hotel room, hadn’t he? And then…

“Oh man,” Chris moaned and rubbed his eyes. “I wasn’t dreaming. It was all real. Oh boy!”

It really was more than obvious when he thought about it. The room smelt of sex. He grinned; the chamber mate would certainly get second thoughts when he or she changed the sheets later. He let himself fall back onto the mattress and buried his nose into the pillow next to him. He could smell Neil’s aftershave very faintly and grinned again.

So where was the old guy? Wait, wasn’t there a noise coming from the bathroom? The shower was running so at least that meant that Neil was still around and had not run off to breakfast or wherever else he thought he could hide behind a veneer of some unbearable mood.

◊◊◊◊

Neil tensed when he heard the soft noise of the bathroom door being opened and closed and then of naked feet padding over the tiles. The cabin door was yanked open and a gush of cool air hit him and made him shiver. Reluctantly he turned around. Chris was standing there, face blank, head stuck into the gap.

When Neil said nothing and only stared back, Chris laughed. “Don’t look so shell-shocked. It’s just me. How did you sleep?”

Neil made a noise that might have been a cross between a chuckle and a snort.

“How can he act like everything’s perfectly normal this morning?” he wondered.

“Fine,” he answered and hated instantly how shaky and insecure his voice sounded, even his own ears.

Chris shot him a long, thoughtful glace and then, with a short shrug, stepped into the cabin as well. Neil automatically took a step backwards and found himself backed up against the wall. He couldn’t really think anymore, it was all so very bizarre.

“Don’t want to make it a habit to let to freeze,” Chris said with a grin.

“I take it, you don’t…” Neil began but was cut short by Chris suddenly kissing him very softly.

“Regret it?” Chris finished for him. “No, I don’t. Not one bit. Do you?”

Neil just shook his head and returned the kiss. “And now?”

“Now,” Chris answered, grabbing Neil by the chin and looking him straight in the eyes. “Now we’re going to find out what exactly the more is that you thought was possible between us.”

Neil nodded solemnly but then broke out into a huge grin. “That sounds good, at least for the start.”

“And what do you expect after the start?”

“Hmm,” Neil pretended to be thinking hard about this and then looked at Chris with barely concealed amusement in his eyes.

“Do you think Elton might want to plan our stag night?”

Chris rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a smile.

“Now I can see where the idea to I wouldn’t normally do this kind of thing came from,” he chuckled. “One decent fuck and the guy thinks he’s the king of the castle.”

He poked Neil in the ribs playfully which made him flinch and giggle.

“Ticklish, are you?” Chris stated the obvious and jabbed his finger at the offending spot a few times more.

“No, I’m not,” Neil deadpanned but ruined the effect by wiping at some tears of laughter in his eyes.

“You mentioned a decent fuck,” he then continued conversationally. “That reminds me, I think I left something unfinished yesterday.”

He rested his hands on Chris shoulders and pulled him close. When their bodies crashed into each other, he shivered and heard Chris moan. He leaned down slightly and continued the kissing. At first, he just brushed his lips against Chris’, enjoying their softness and the contrast of the stubble scratching the skin on his cheeks and chin. Chris seemed to be in no hurry, he let Neil do as he pleased and mimicked the action of his friend.

Neil had wanted to keep his eyes open, to be able to see Chris’s reactions but the water which constantly ran into them and the sheer intensity of sensation he was experiencing, made it impossible. He nipped and licked at Chris’s lips, placed soft kisses on his mouth and bit at his chin. When Chris moaned again, he slid his tongue into Chris mouth and heard himself moan as well.

“Physically it should be impossible,” he thought. “To be that turned on again after last night.”

The kiss soon went from playful to hungry and it felt a bit like they were fighting for who was going to devour whom whole first. All the years of platonic friendship suddenly seemed like such a waste and Neil was unable to stop. He wanted to feel, to taste, to touch every inch of Chris, inside and out, from head to toe and back again.

He felt Chris’ hands on his waist, warm against his skin even underneath the hot spray of water. A foot was wiggling its way between his feet and then a knee was nudging his legs apart. Chris pressed closer to him and his erection rubbed against Neil’s thigh. It made him shudder violently and grow fully hard as well.

He broke away, gasping for air and grinned. “Lean back,” he ordered his friend in a dangerously low voice. To his surprise Chris obeyed him without question but pulled a face when the cold tiles hit his back.

Neil smiled and ran a teasing finger down Chris chin and throat. “Oh, I think we’re going to make you feel warmer soon,” he promised. “Although warm is not quite the term I think I should use. I think you’ll be feeling… hot quite soon!”

Chris groaned and buckled his hips in invitation.

“Impatient brat,” Neil mumbled but sank down to his knees anyway. The joints still ached from spending a significant part of last night in doggy fashion, but he couldn’t care less about those small discomforts right now.

He licked his lips and then blew a teasing breath across Chris hard member. He noted the small quiver it gave with a smirk and licked along the shaft. He continued with that, soft, long fluid licks along the complete length of Chris’s hard cock until it was all slippery and twitching impatiently. Neil wiped his mouth and inhaled deeply. God, he really loved the way Chris smelled!

He sucked the tip of Chris’s dick into his mouth and let his tongue play with the glans and foreskin. It was fun trying to push it down with only his tongue and when he circled and lapped at the glans Chris shivered and moaned almost every time he licked across the ridge. He kept this up for a while, trying to ignore the heat building up within him again.

But all too soon his patience was wearing thin and so he took Chris’s length into this mouth and begun sucking hard, like he’d done the night before. He hollowed out his cheeks and relaxed the muscles at the back of this throat and just sucked for all he was worth, feeling the tip of Chris’s hard dick hitting the roof of his mouth and sliding down deeper and deeper until he felt he could no longer breath. Only then did he stop sucking and let Chris’ cock glide back until he only held the tip encircled by his lips before starting all over again.

Chris seemed to be past all control now, he was making the most delicious sounds, panting, and moaning and begging and mumbling incoherent nonsense. His hips kept thrusting forward, basically fucking Neil’s mouth. His fingernails dug into Neil’s shoulders, no doubt leaving half-moon bruises.

Not that Neil cared; he didn’t even feel the ache in his knees anymore. He was pumping himself now, pulling at his straining hard-on with impatient quick motions. He just wanted to come but he wanted Chris to come equally badly.

Gathering up the last bit of concentration he had, he picked up speed again. He was working his way down Chris’ shaft once more when he felt Chris freeze in mid-motion and then jerk violently.

Hot sperm shot into his mouth and ran down his throat, leaving a slightly bitter taste. He swallowed frantically, trying not to choke, and let Chris’ dick glide halfway out of his mouth. He encircled it with his free hand and kept sucking at the tip until the flow of sperm stopped, and Chris went limp. He swallowed down the last drops and kept on pumping himself.

Chris’s dick slipped out of his mouth and he moaned in protest. Two hands somehow pulled him back up on his feet and propped him up against the cold wall. Then Chris’ hand was covering his own and went along with his frantic strokes. A hot tongue was licking below his chin and then he came with a small scream. His knees were shaking but Chris held him up and stoked the back of his head to soothe him.

It was such a tender gesture that it made Neil felt like he might start crying for a split second before his orgasm took all thought from his mind. Even when his own hand had dropped away, Chris was still stroking him, making him feel like he was never going to come down again.

Another scream died in his throat and everything went black for what seemed like an eternity. When he opened his eyes again, he found he was slumped against Chris, his head resting against Chris’. He swallowed a few time, trying to find his voice but realized that for once there was nothing he wanted to say.

He straightened and stepped back slightly. Chris appeared decidedly rumpled and looked back at him with a somewhat dazed face expression. He grinned when he saw Neil placing one hand against the wall for support.

“I think we earned breakfast now,” he said simply, and it made Neil laugh out loud.

“Oh, you’re just beyond impossible!”

Chris reached for the shower gel and began to wash both himself and Neil very quickly and replied innocently:

“What? Is there anything more important than sex and food?”

◊◊◊◊

Shortly before 11 o’clock they were both sitting in Chris’s car. The short walk to the parking space Chris had chosen the night before had cleared Neil’s head a little and he mused that they both had acted like schoolboys during breakfast. He wondered how they had managed to eat their toast and drink their tea and coffee at all with all the giggling and ambiguous remarks.

When Neil had fastened his seatbelt, Chris had turned to him and asked:

“So, where do we go? Back to London?”

Neil thought for a moment and then shook his head slowly.

“No, I don’t think so. Why don’t we go to Durham and spent some time all alone?”

“You want me to stay?”

“Yes,” Neil nodded. “I want you to stay, for as long as you want right now and generally speaking as well. London can wait.”

Chris looked a little stunned as he worked out the implications of Neil’s statement but then his face lit up.

“Cool!” He grinned and stared the engine. “Could you hand me my sunglasses from the glove box?

◊◊◊◊

Almost four hours later Chris finally stopped his car in front of Neil’s house in Durham and killed the engine. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, willing his annoyance at having been stuck in a sheer endless traffic jam away. Neil had dozed off about an hour ago, no doubt lured to sleep by the oppressive heat inside the car that Chris preferred while driving.

He unbuckled his seat belt and studied his sleeping friend for a long moment. Only the day before yesterday the two of them had been sitting in the studio in London together and Chris had not even dared dreaming that something like this might ever happen.

And yet, here he was, in a car with a sleeping Neil with whom he’d shared both some intimate discussions and incredibly hot sex only hours ago. And not only that; he felt as if some deep connection had re-adjusted itself and things had finally fallen into place. Even if he didn’t quite know what he felt, he knew that it was more than just attraction or some passing fancy to see where their past crushes would lead them.

How did that Oscar Wilde quote go? ‘When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers?’ Somehow Chris didn’t think the wisdom of the Irish playwright applied in their case, though. He hadn’t really wished for it, had he? It had always seemed far too bizarre to even contemplate the possibility of him and Neil ever being anything other than friends.

“But we’ve always been good at going against all odds,” he muttered to himself and gently shook Neil at the shoulder.

“Hmm?” Neil’s head came up and he blinked sleepily at him. “Are we there yet?” he asked. “Sorry, I didn’t wanna fall asleep.” He then yawned open-mouthed and pushed his glasses back up his nose before he climbed out of the car.

Both men stood there next to the car in the chilly wind and stretched, feeling a bit weary after the long drive. Neil glanced up at the sky and suppressed a shudder. Dark clouds were gathering overhead.

“Looks like it’s going to snow, or we’ll at least get some hail later,” he said to Chris who was now at the boot and placed Neil’s small suitcase down next to him.

“Are you going over to Susan to fetch Kevin right away?” he asked.

“No,” Neil shook his head and carried the suitcase over to the main door. While he was unlocking it, he stole sideways glances at Chris who stood there next to him. He couldn’t help but smile. The prospect of having Chris around as not only his friend and partner made him feel warm inside.

“No,” he repeated. “Right now, I could die for a cup of tea and then I’ll change into more comfortable clothes and then…” He grinned as Chris closed the door behind him and followed him through to the kitchen. “Then I might go over and fetch Kevin.”

“I could use some more comfortable clothes as well,” Chris muttered and pulled at the collar of his white shirt.

“Did I tell you you’re looking stunning in yesterday’s clothes?” Neil asked and enfolded Chris in a playful embrace. “But there’s still the stuff you left here last time you stayed here for longer than a couple of days. There’s a bunch of hoodies and baggy jeans in the room you stayed in then. And some pyjamas as well.”

“I’ve no idea why you mention pyjamas now, considering it’s not even tea-time,” Chris replied, even though the smile on this face clearly stated that he could get very used to this kind of treatment.

Both men were badly startled when they heard a sharp, loud knock. They jumped apart, both blushing. Neil looked at Chris apologetically, who had shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and was studying the grey stone tiles on the floor with great interest.

Neil turned and, to his great horror, saw his sister standing behind the back door at the other end of the kitchen, grinning like a maniac. She was waving at him and made a hand motion, indicating that he should please open the door.

Neil sighed and, gathering up his courage, crossed the room to unlock the door. As soon as it was open, Susan practically flew past him and gave a surprised looking Chris the hug of his life.

“What the hell…?” Chris began but all speech was squeezed out of him by Susan’s fierce hug. “Woman, get off me,” he demanded after another embarrassing moment of being held against her breast and slapped on the back.

Blushing a bit herself, she finally stepped back and looked at Neil who had remained standing near the now open door, arms folded across his chest, watching the scene in wry amusement.

“Why haven’t you told me?” she demanded. “I always get to hear about all of your little catastrophes,” she scolded her brother and behind her Chris couldn’t quite suppress a snort. “So, you could’ve told me that you finally came to your senses!”

“Susan,” Neil cut her short. “What on earth are you talking about?”

Chris thought it was obvious what his friend’s sister was talking about but chose not to comment.

“Oh you!” Susan sighed in mock annoyance. “What am I talking about? That you and Chris have figured out what Ma and I thought should happen when we first saw you both together all those bloody years ago!”

“Being what?” Neil asked while walking back to where Chris was standing. 

“Don’t play dumber than you are, Neil” she shot back at her brother but smiled in obvious affection at both of them before she continued: “Well, it was obvious that you both would make such a cute couple right from the start. Ask Ma, she’ll tell you.”

Neil cringed. Asking his mum about why she’d come to the conclusion that Chris and he should be… well, boyfriends long before the thought had occurred to him, made him very uneasy.

Chris burst out laughing next to him. “Cute,” he gasped. “She called us cute. A cute couple!”

Neil just threw him an irritated look and then faced his sister once more.

“What makes you think we are a couple now?” He asked and even using the term made him nervous. But Chris didn’t protest and only continued laughing.

Susan smirked at him and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Yas sich a gowk sometimes, pet,” she said, deliberately falling back into her heavy Geordie accent. “Ah tell yee why ah think yas couple na. Ah saaw yee as canny as kissin him!” She drew in a deep breath and looked pleased. “No need to deny the obvious, little brother!”

She went over to him and gave him a quick hug. “Don’t worry; I’m not going to bother you. I’m just happy for you! Both of you! Will I see you around tomorrow?”

Neil nodded. “Yeah, tell ma an' da that we’ll be dropping by.”

Susan gave him a sisterly pat on the shoulder and was gone almost as quickly as she’d stormed in.

Neil shook his head and breathed a sigh of relieve. “That went over really well,” he stated dryly.

Chris was just recovering from his fit of laughter and wiped his eyes. “That was nothing,” he warned and grinned. “Wait until my folks in Blackpool get wind of this!”

Neil paled a little but quickly recovered and grinned back. “Do you have your mobile with you now?”

Chris nodded. 

“Could you hand it to me?”

“Sure,” Chris pulled it from his jeans pocket and then frowned. “What do you need it for?”

“To take a picture,” Neil told him matter-of-factly. He took the phone from Chris, who’d unlocked it already. He walked around Chris until he was standing really close behind him and positioned his head next to that of his friend. Holding out the phone in front of them, he took a snapshot and then announced: “Another message from Neil, informing our loyal fan base about the change in circumstance.” 

Chris snatched the phone from his hand, a horrified expression on his face. “Bastard! You wouldn’t dare, would you?”

Neil nearly collapsed with laughter as he saw Chris frantically pushing the buttons of his mobile to delete the picture he’d just taken.

“Don’t… you don’t have to… delete it,” he managed to get out between giggles. “I was joking! I don’t want them to discuss our sex life in all details, it’s bad enough we’re having to face our mothers with this!”

Chris pulled a face and threw the mobile on top of the kitchen table. 

“Oh, shut up,” he grumbled but placed a firm kiss on Neil’s mouth to make sure they were going to change the subject anyway.


End file.
